The Stockhom Syndrome
by Claire Bloom
Summary: Isabella Swan is a hostage, but amidst the horror of her ordeal, she finds hope and friendship from an unlikely source; one of her kidnappers. Written as part of FAGEtastic Four - a gift exchange. Rated M for language and dark scenes of violence. B&J. AU.
1. Prologue

**FAGEtastic Four**

**Title: The Stockholm Syndrome**

**Written for: VampireNits**

**Written By: Claire Bloom**

**Rating: M**

**Summary/Prompt used: Horror and Hope**

**If you would like to see all the stories that are a part of this exchange visit the facebook group:** **Fanficaholics Anon: Where Obsession Never Sleeps**** or add the C2 to get all the stories direct to your inbox.  
**** community/Fagetastic_Four/98339/**

**My eternal gratitude is owed to AcrossTheSkyInStars aka Tanya Zedor for being my friend, my beta and the little sister I never had. Thank you for always pushing me to write better. x**

**I would also like to thank Vampmama/readingmama aka Tiffany, for all the hard work and dedication she gives to each and every FAGE. You are inspirational, and thank you for always talking me into it!**

**Disclaimer: All the character names are the property of Stephenie Meyer. This storyline is my alternate universe for them to play in.**

**The Stockholm syndrome**

**Prologue**

Bella lifted the bloody hammer above her head, and then she paused, ready to strike one more time.

Her fingers felt sticky; the blood dripping down the handle made it difficult to grip, but sheer determination - the need and the will to survive - far outweighed the humanity left inside her.

With each swing of the hammer, with each soft impact into his skull, his face, his body, she had felt everything which made her human, dissipate. She should have felt elated. She should have felt free. She should have felt something, anything. She had expected the crowning emotion to be anger for a feeling had to exist in order to drive her on, to make her fight, but all Bella felt was empty.

She looked down at her assailant, at her victim. In the dim light filtering from the open basement door above them, she could see he was laying still, his features swollen and pulverised. She couldn't tell if air passed through his lips. They were fat and bleeding. Bella found herself staring at his face, or what was left of it. It didn't look real, not human. Fake. Like a dummy in a horror movie.

He looked dead. She didn't need to strike again.

Dropping the hammer, Bella wiped her hands across her face. She could feel the bruises left behind from his punches, the scratches sweeping down her right cheek from his nails, and her nose crunched when she touched it. She was pretty sure it was broken.

She was wet with tears and spittle, but her filthy hands didn't help to clear them away. Her lips were parted and her breathing was fast and shallow. Sweeping her tongue out, she tasted the coppery fluid her fingers had just smeared there. She glanced down at her hands, her dress, her bare feet, the walls, the floor, back to his mushy features; everywhere was stained with blood.

The room was painted with it; some of it Bella's, most of it his.

With a sob, she fell to her knees. She looked down at her hands, expecting to see them shake but they remained steady, as if she were calm. Two of Bella's fingernails were missing, completely ripped off, leaving the tips red and sore.

She wanted to scream but her throat was dry. She wanted to cry but her tears were gone. She wanted to shake but adrenaline was still coursing through her body, giving her strength when she should've been feeble.

She hadn't eaten in days; she couldn't be sure exactly when her last bite was as she had no concept of time or how long she had been down here.

She hadn't bathed, or used a toilet since she had been taken. Her excrement and her sweat were no longer putrid because she had inhaled the stench for so many hours it had simply become air to her. But she knew it was still there, still ripe in the air, for when they had walked down the basement steps their faces had scrunched with disgust.

But now she was free.

A groan from across the room startled Bella from her stupor. Scrambling over the cold, concrete floor, she gripped Jasper's shoulders and lifted him till his head lay in her lap.

"Jasper," she whispered, smoothing her hand over his chest. She found the bullet wound and applied pressure.

"Bella," Jasper murmured. His breathing had become gritty, like he needed to cough and clear his throat. "Where's...?"

"He's over there," Bella nodded her head towards the bloody heap. "I think he's dead."

"Good." Jasper coughed, and blood trickled from his lips. Bella ignored it, and bending down, she kissed his face.

"Just lay still, ok. The ambulance is coming. Help will be here soon." She stroked his hair and continued to pepper his cheeks and nose with kisses. "Just lay still, ok?" Jasper didn't respond. "Help will be here soon," she heard herself say.

Beneath her hand she felt his chest rise and fall, and with each exhale warmth flooded her palm where she pressed it against his injury. He was bleeding quite profusely and Bella didn't know how to stop it.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter one**

Isabella Swan punched in the key code on the security panel and waited for the gates to silently slide open.

She drove her Mercedes in through the gap and glanced in her rear view mirror to see them soundlessly close behind her.

Winding her way up the mile long drive, Isabella noticed a new gardener raking leaves. He was younger than the usual guy, Harry, and slimmer. Harry was rounder, a result of loving beer and very little exercise for many years. Isabella liked Harry. He was kind, loyal, and genuine; so few people had any of those qualities these days.

Isabella was driving slowly so she chanced another peek at the new guy. His hair was long and unruly and his face unshaven. She wondered if her father, Charlie, had interviewed him as his appearance was not up to Charlie's standard. Isabella's breath hitched as she realised he had stopped his work and was watching her through squinted eyes. His hair was a dirty blonde and his clothes nondescript. Isabella smiled, but he didn't respond, he just looked away and continued on with his raking. He must've been hard at it for a while because Isabella noticed the ground was completely clear of any leaves or grass cuttings.

Reaching the house, Isabella parked her car, and ignoring the strange new gardener, she grabbed her school bag, jumped out, and ran up the steps and inside.

Calling out, she was greeted with silence. She waited for their housekeeper, Sue, to come meet her at the door as she always did; wiping her hands on her apron and smiling as she asked about Isabella's day.

But Sue didn't come.

Dropping her bag, Isabella walked through to the kitchen. She grabbed a snack and made her way upstairs to her room. As she passed the large window at the top of the stairs, she looked outside, but the strange, new gardener was no longer in sight.

As Isabella strode down the hall, the silence in the house seemed to seep in. It felt eerie yet nothing appeared out of place. It was just too quiet. Isabella stopped walking. She hadn't even reached her room, but something wasn't right.

Listening, all she could hear was her own breathing. There was no distant clatter from the kitchen, no dull voices as her father talked business on his phone, or with his assistant.

It seemed to Isabella as though she were the only person there. This was weird because her father worked from home, running his security business from the rooms occupying the west wing of the house. Sue lived in, so she was always around – cooking, cleaning, bossing the other staff around. She took care of Charlie and Isabella and she was good at it.

Harry, the gardener Isabella was used to seeing around, was vigilant in his work, so for him to be absent before six 'o' clock was also bizarre.

All the signs were evident that something was amiss, but she didn't know what it could be. Turning direction, she headed toward her father's office instead of her bedroom. Tapping softly, she opened the door and ventured inside.

The numerous monitors showing various angles and rooms around the grounds of their home were on, but not transmitting. All the screens were snowy except one, which had three words typed across it in black and white capitals.

Isabella felt fear inch its way up her back and tickle the hairs at the nape of her neck. She walked towards the screen, and reaching out, she touched the monitor. Gentle static responded to her fingers. She read the words over and over again. She understood them, she knew what they meant, yet she couldn't decipher their meaning.

_You're not alone_

If the house was empty and quiet, and everyone gone, what could this possibly mean?

'You're not alone,' Isabella mouthed the words, then voiced her confusion, "I don't understand."

"It's simple."

Isabella tried to whirl around to confront the voice she didn't recognise, but a hand holding a cloth clamped over her face, and another hand wrapped across her chest, holding her still. There was a liquid infused in the fibres of the cloth, and Isabella started to feel dizzy. She clung onto the arm, felt him press up against her back. He was tall and strong, and his long, dirty blonde hair tickled her cheek.

"You are not alone!" he chuckled.

Reaching her hands up to grip his, Isabella tried to turn to face him. She tilted her head, wanting to get a good look at him, but he was too strong and the dizziness was overpowering. She tried not to breathe, but it was too late. The chloroform had already been inhaled in the same instant he had plastered it to her face.

Isabella slumped, but he didn't let her hit the floor. He simply held her close, and watched her eyes roll back and then close.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter two**

Jasper didn't know why he was asked to park the truck down a deserted lane, behind one of the biggest, fanciest houses he had ever seen. He didn't know what the plan was, nor did he know how long this would take. But what he did know, for sure, was that James was up to no good. Heck, James was always up to no good, and Jasper, as well as his two brothers, Emmett and Edward, usually managed to get dragged into it, whether they liked it or not.

Jasper had a lot of respect for his brothers, especially Edward, but he couldn't see what they saw in James. Jasper had tried, but he couldn't figure out the attraction there, or the loyalty Edward showed him. In Jasper's opinion, James was a dick. To say he didn't really like James was an understatement, but he was Edward's friend, so Jasper just shut up and put up as it were. After all, Edward was his older brother and he took care of Jasper, Emmett, and their younger sister, Alice. When their father had died six years ago, it had been Edward, at only fourteen years of age, who put food in their mouths, and clothes on their backs, and who kept the bailiffs from the door. It had been a tough time for their mom; she had allowed her grief to consume her, and then came the vodka.

Jasper admired Edward for all of that, and he trusted him. Besides, he had tired of telling his brother how much he hated James, how much trouble he caused, and at times how scared he made Jasper feel. But for reasons unknown to him, Edward continued to show James loyalty and to follow him in all his endeavours, no matter how foolish or dangerous they were. Jasper feared Edward owed James. He didn't ask Edward what it was, because he was a great believer in 'what you don't know can't hurt you'.

However much Jasper kept his head down, he still noticed things, and some of those things included money being exchanged between Edward and James. Jasper knew better than to question Edward on why James was giving them money. He trusted Edward to see them right, to look after them. After all, he had done a great job so far. Better than their own mother.

It was James' quick temper and his failure to rationalise which scared Jasper the most. He was unpredictable, and life around him was spent walking on eggshells.

It was down to Jasper's fear of James, that he'd attempted to separate himself from their endeavours a long time ago, but James had beaten him, and fought with Edward when he'd tried to protect him. Edward had fought back hard, but the fight halted when James drew a blade. It was just his style to play dirty when the odds were stacked against him. Jasper expected this to be the undoing of their friendship – prayed for it, in fact – but it wasn't.

Sitting in the truck, watching the back of the house for his 'signal', Jasper knew this time it was not a foolish endeavour James had dragged him into. This time it was something big, and Jasper could feel the cold hand of fear creep up his body and take root in his chest.

He wasn't afraid to admit he was terrified, and it took all of his love and respect for his brothers to not turn on the engine and race that damn truck out of there, leaving James and his antics behind.

Running now might lead to jail for his brothers, and although that was the best place for James, Jasper knew it would not end well for his family. His foot ached to press down on the gas pedal and his hands itched to grip the steering wheel, but he couldn't, just wouldn't leave Emmett and Edward behind.

So Jasper stayed put and waited for his signal.

He looked around him and at the rooftops of the multimillion dollar homes surrounding him. The lane he had parked in backed onto the property James and his brothers had run towards three hours ago. They had assured him the lane was unused and he would remain undetected.

It worried Jasper that they knew this fact and he wondered what was inside that house.

Was it large flat screen TV's they would try to sell?

Maybe a safe was hidden behind a picture frame, and cash was their incentive?

Jasper decided it was more likely a full-blown burglary taking place, hence the need for the truck. Before they had left home, James had lain a large sheet down in the back, and taped the edges securely.

"In case of spillages," James had laughed and winked at him. Jasper had smiled, but in the back of his mind, he didn't even want to consider that joke had even an ounce of truth in it.

While he waited for the signal, Jasper now pondered on the sheet and the spillage comment. It was a bizarre thing to do for a robbery. What could he possibly be stealing? Not a fish tank, surely?

He tapped the steering wheel, wishing he could turn on the radio, but remembering James' orders to not draw any attention to the truck.

Glancing in the rear view mirror, Jasper noticed Edward signalling to him. Cursing under his breath at missing it after waiting for so long, he started the engine and drove towards him.

"Shit, Jaz, I've been waving at you for a minute! I told you to watch out for me."

"I'm sorry," was all Jasper could say. What was the point in arguing, anyway?

"Let's get moving. We're running out of time." Edward was ashen and sweating. As he jumped up into the seat, Jasper noticed he was also shaking. There was a smear of red across the back of his hand. It looked like blood.

He felt his tummy tighten, and that cold fear take over again. This was not good.

"Eddy, what's going on?" Jasper asked. He kept his voice low as if he barely dared to question him.

"Just drive over the hill, you'll see a garage with a side door, I need you to park the back of the truck as close to that door as possible."

Jasper nodded, and concentrated on backing the truck up close, as instructed. He parked and reached out for the door handle but Edward's hand on his arm stopped him.

Looking over at his brother, Jasper felt scared. "You don't get out of this truck, you hear me? Don't look in any mirror and don't look out the window. Just keep your eyes front and the engine running."

"Wha...?"

"Just do it, Jasper, ok?"

Jasper nodded and gripped the steering wheel.

He could hear them talking, giving instructions to each other, and then felt as well as heard, the thump of an object being thrown into the back of the truck. It sounded heavy, but soft. Jasper didn't want to ponder on what the loot could be, he just wanted to get the hell out of there. He didn't like the look on Edward's face, or the sound of fear in his voice. He just wanted to flee.

Emmett and James climbed into the back of the truck, and Edward got in beside Jasper.

"Drive," Edward told him.

Jasper shifted gear and wheel and spun away from the garage.

"Slower!" Edward hissed. "Like nothing is wrong. We're just workmen, leaving a job, heading home or out for a beer."

Jasper glanced over at him, incredulous. "And are we heading home, or out for a beer? What the fuck is going on?"

"Watch your mouth!" Edward snapped. He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

A few minutes passed and Jasper felt compelled to ask. "So, where are we driving to? You still haven't told me."

"I will."

It was all Edward would say for the next half an hour, except for curt directions.

They eventually turned down a small drive, almost completely hidden by overgrown trees and foliage. The house was worn, tired looking but still liveable. Jasper parked and kept the engine running. He knew better than to assume by now.

Edward touched his shoulder. "Stay here. I'll come get you."

"Do I have to be involved in this?" Jasper bowed his head down, till his forehead touched the steering wheel. The leather felt cool against his heated skin.

Edward's fingers squeezed gently. "No, Jaz, you don't. Why do you think I haven't told you anything?"

Jasper looked up at him. "So I can go?"

"I'll come get you. If you decide to leave, that's fine too. I'd rather you didn't do anymore than you already have, anyway."

Jasper nodded and waited for his brother to disappear from view before he let the tears fall. This was bad. This was all kinds of bad, and he knew deep down, in his heart, that this was not going to end well. He had no idea what they had done in that mansion, or what was being transferred from the back of the truck into this house. He didn't know what the plan was, and Jasper felt happy to just drive away and never know.

As James and Emmett lifted the bundle from the truck floor, it shifted. James grunted and fell back, dropping his end. Emmett was strong but his grip was wrong, so when James let go, Emmett did, too.

The bundle landed with a thud on the ground, omitting a muted grunt. Jasper heard it, and his instinct was to look.

They had used sheets and rope to bind the contents, yet a corner had come loose with the jostling, exposing a shock of long black hair.

Jumping out of the truck, Jasper ran to them. "That's a girl!" he shouted, just as James' fist connected with his jaw.

Jasper fell back, clutching his face, his eyes still on the girl lying wrapped in sheets.

"Keep your fucking voice down!" James hissed, spittle hitting his own chin. He wiped it with his arm. "Fucking moron!"

"Hey!" Edward came charging at him. "What's your problem, man?"

James rounded on Edward. "I'm tired of carrying this turd. He races away from the scene, he shouts out here. If we get caught, Ed, it will be because of him!"

Edward gripped James' shirt and pull him up close. "I deal with my brother, got it?" Their faces so close, their noses touched.

James pushed him back and straightened his clothes. Glaring at Jasper, he told Emmett to resume his position, and then lifting the girl, they both carried her inside.


	4. Chapter Three

**My eternal gratitude is owed to AcrossTheSkyInStars aka Tanya Zedor for forgiving my comma abuse! x**

**Disclaimer: All the character names are the property of Stephenie Meyer. This storyline is my alternate universe for them to play in.**

**Chapter three**

Charlie Swan had worked hard for his fortune. He had spent stupid amount of hours salving away, for pennies mainly, and learning a skill for which he would later utilise to his advantage.

He became adept at observation and recognising potential security threats, and his dry wit, no nonsense persona, and eagle eye, had earned him respect within the city. This was all aided in building his reputation, and his business, until Swan Security Services soon became the only security company used, bar none.

Charlie didn't like pretention, so when his wife insisted they buy a bigger home, a newer car, and enrol their daughter in a private school, he couldn't see the point.

Why buy a home with ten bedrooms when there was just the three of them? Why buy a newer car when the one they had had never failed them, nor cost them anything other than the fuel they put in it? Why change Isabella's school when she had friends and a decent education where she was already?

To Charlie, it wasn't about not wanting to provide for his family, it was about pretending to be something the Swans weren't, and this is what he told Renee. But what Renee wanted, Renee got. He loved his wife and he loved his child. Making them both happy and safe was his main priority, so Charlie Swan relented; the German engineered cars, and the mansion and the staff that came along with such a property, were soon president in their lives.

He knew he had made the right decision whenever he had looked at Renee and realised how happy she was. He also knew it had been the right decision when he watched Isabella grow and blossom into a bright, sensitive, caring young woman. He knew he had made the right choice when the staff he had hired to work around their home and gardens, and for his business, treated Isabella as if she were one of their own, especially when Renee had passed away.

But as Charlie Swan stood in the middle of his office, and re-read the note blazing across one of his monitors like a cruel riddle, he suddenly realised he had been wrong. Very wrong indeed.

Moving here, and showing the world his fortune, his business stamina and his daughter, had simply placed her in dangers way.

_You're not alone_

"Boss." Jacob stood in the doorway. His suit was hand-stitched and jet black. His long hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He looked dapper and Charlie had hoped for him and Isabella to become attached. A friendship had developed, for sure, but the attraction had seemed to be one-sided. This had not deterred Jacob, who had continued to pursue and spoil Isabella at every opportunity, even after she'd explained her love for him was as a brother. Jacob was relentless in his admiration for her, just as he was relentless in his job. And it was the latter which had convinced Charlie to make him Vice President. He was just so damn reliable. "Her room is empty," he told Charlie.

Jacob didn't mention how his stomach had dropped and then hope had risen when they couldn't find her. Especially after they'd discovered Harry and Sue's bodies; both with their throats slit. Jacob was glad she wasn't with them, but then the reality that something worse could be happening to her hit home.

Charlie continued to stare at the monitor. The others were nothing but snowy static, indicating the wiring had been cut.

"What about Harry and Sue? Any sign of them?"

Jacob cleared his throat, but didn't speak. Charlie turned to look at him. Jacob bowed his head, his hands hung by his side. Charlie noticed his shoulders shudder before he managed to regain composure.

"I'm so sorry." Jacob didn't need to say anymore. His facade was slipping; the tough guy was simply a scared, young man.

Charlie turned back to the monitors. Walking towards the one working screen, Charlie noticed a small, pale blue envelope taped to the dials.

Walking to the en-suite bathroom, Charlie looked in each cupboard for the cleaning supplies. Taking out some rubber gloves, he walked back into the office.

Opening his desk drawer, he removed a large, brown, unused manila, and went back to the blue envelope beneath the monitor.

Carefully tugging it free, Charlie placed the envelope, plus the tape used to stick it, on top of the manila, and using his letter opener, he sliced the paper with one fluid motion.

Taking care not to rip the seal, Charlie removed the letter inside. He hoped DNA had been left behind on the glue strip. Charlie knew the world had evolved in the last twenty years with regards to DNA testing and forensics, and this information was widely available, even to the criminal world, but he also prayed that the person who had dared to violate his home, murder his loyal staff and friend, and then kidnap his daughter, may also be stupid enough to lick the Goddamn envelope. This person obviously had a criminal record, for kidnap was not a crime one just fell into as a debut. Charlie had no doubt they were repeat offenders, and he vowed that once caught, they would never have the opportunity to offend again.

Unfolding the letter, Charlie read the contents, once, twice, three times, before folding and placing it, the pale blue envelope, and the tape, inside the brown manila.

"Boss?" Jacob had yet to enter the room, choosing to remain in the doorway.

"Jacob," Charlie turned his head to look at him, "call the police."

"Isabella, Sir, is she...?"

Charlie removed the rubber gloves and lay them down on his desk. Turning, he walked in silence to the bathroom. Jacob heard him mutter a single word before the muted sounds of Charlie Swan vomiting could be heard through the closed door.

"Kidnapped," Jacob whispered to the empty room. "Oh, Isabella."


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter four**

Jasper scrambled to his feet, and watched in horror as Emmett and James re-wrapped the girl tightly in the sheets. Lifting her, they carried the bundle into the house.

"Ed?" Jasper turned to his brother just as Edward walked after them. He didn't respond. "Ed, you said I could go."

Edward whirled back around and grabbed Jasper's jacket, pulling him up short. Jasper could feel the heat of Edward's breath on his face. "Yeah, and I also told you to stay in the truck!"

"But, I heard, I mean, I had to look. It was instinct after I heard..."

"I told you to stay in the truck," Edward repeated, only this time, he seemed deflated. "You're too involved now, Jaz. You've seen too much. You can't go home, you can't walk away. You're with us."

Jasper looked down at the ground.

"I didn't want this to happen, Jaz." Jasper wasn't sure if Edward meant the kidnapping, or his younger brother's reluctant involvement. "We just needed a driver, and I even argued that because I wanted you nowhere near this, this serious, crazy shit. But now, you're in this, too, right?"

Edward had asked Jasper a question, but it was rhetorical. Jasper had no choice but to follow. Edward steered him toward the house. Once inside, he turned and closed the door, drawing the bolt across; to lock them in, or to keep someone out, either way it didn't make a difference.

Letting go of Jasper's jacket, Edward walked into the kitchen and through a door which had been left ajar. Jasper trailed behind, finding that the open door led down into a basement.

The stairs were wooden and rickety, and the rail appeared weak. Jasper didn't dare put his hand on it in case it crumbled under his touch.

Making his way down, Jasper noted there was one chair in the centre of the room, and a dark green sofa against the wall. There was also a table and just a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Other than the puny bulb, and the light drifting down from the kitchen door above them, there was no other illumination; no windows, no basement door leading out to the garden. There was just one way in and out of this place, and that was back up those rickety basement stairs.

By the time Jasper reached the bottom, James and Emmett had placed the bundle on the floor, which was concrete and probably cold.

No sunlight reached this room, no heaters occupied the space. It wouldn't matter how hot the weather was outside, the basement would always be cool, including the hard, cement floor. Jasper worried she would be uncomfortable; if she was awake. He hadn't heard any noise from her since they'd removed her from the truck. He wondered if she had been, or still was, unconscious, and if so, how she got that way. He wasn't an idiot, he had figured out this was a kidnapping, and that type of crime was hardly done politely. If the person came along willingly, it wasn't an actual kidnapping, right? Which meant she was taken without consent, so was possibly hurt, and when she woke, if she wasn't already, she would also be scared.

Jasper recognised he was silently rambling. His thoughts were a jumble, and he needed to get a grip, even if it was all spoken with his inner voice. He knew it would get too much for him, because this crazy situation was already too much, therefore, his inner voice could quite likely spill forth. He didn't want James to hear his thoughts. He didn't want James to acknowledge him again, full stop. In truth, Jasper just wanted to vanish into the background.

No one had explained the plan to Jasper. Heck, he hadn't even known why they were at that mansion in the first place. He'd been worried this was all about a burglary. A simple theft was the least of his worries, now he knew what they had really gone in there for.

It was because Jasper had no idea what the plan was that he decided to ignore his inner voice, and speak. There was no way this nightmare was going to end any other way but badly.

"Who is she, and why is she here?"

To Jasper's relief, it was Edward who responded. "She is Charlie Swan's daughter, Jaz. It doesn't matter why she's here."

"Yes it does," Jasper started to object at being kept in the dark again. Things had already gone too far.

To hell with it!

"Trust me!" Edward hissed, glancing over his shoulder at James. Jasper got the message. He would keep quiet, for now. But as soon as he got Edward alone, he wanted some answers.

Jasper looked around them; James was preoccupied, talking with Emmett. Edward stood near the stairs, watching the bundle on the floor, so Jasper simply awaited instruction.

It seemed like a lifetime passed before James turned to them. "We need supplies." He eyed Jasper thoughtfully, and then walked towards him. Jasper steadied himself, waiting for the attack. With James, one never waited long. "If we go out for supplies, and Emmett here stays behind to secure the premises, do you think you could keep an eye on our package, Jasmine?" James smirked at his sudden discovery of a sense of humour. Jasper didn't dare tell him his joke sucked almost as much as his mother did.

Although thinking it did make Jasper feel better, so he returned James' smirk.

James mistook Jasper's smile for affirmation, so nodding, he walked towards the stairs. "Good. Now, don't fuck this up, Jasmine, and under no circumstances do you let _her_ go." James pointed to the bundle. "In fact, if she wakes up, don't even talk to her. Got it?"

"_If_ she wakes up?" Emmett scratched his head.

"Ok, when...when she wakes up." James laughed and walked back up the basement stairs with Emmett close behind.

Edward turned to Jasper. "Will you be ok?"

"No, Edward. No. I don't think after this I will ever be ok."

Jasper refused to look away. Instead he stared straight into Edward's eyes. He had always been someone Jasper could count on, no matter the situation, no matter how scared he was. Edward would look after them. He was twenty and the man of the house. He took care of the family, and Jasper, being just seventeen, relied on the guidance of his brothers. Only now Jasper knew Edward had no way to get any of them out of this safely. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Rather than look away, as he usually did, he wanted Edward to know that he knew; when this was all over, one way or the other, none of them would ever be the same again. And for the first time in his miserable life, Jasper blamed Edward.

So he looked him square in the eye and rounded his shoulders, changing his posture.

It was possibly the first time Jasper had ever tried to look defiant. Edward let him think he had proven something. He allowed Jasper to carry on believing he was the big man in this, just because he thought he was the only one with remorse. Edward had never wanted this. He had never planned to steal a person, and hold her to ransom. It was true he knew whose home they had broken into, because Charlie Swan's reputation was notorious. He was a slick businessman, and had built his life from the ground up. Edward respected that. Heck, everyone in town respected that because Charlie Swan was never born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He had grafted for his wage, he had earned every penny and he was as honest as the day was long.

As much as Edward knew all of this, he also knew that should Charlie Swan ever catch any of the low lives who had hurt and stolen his daughter, he would kill them.

There was no doubt in Edward's mind.

Just as Jasper knew it, he did, too.

They would be lucky to ever see freedom, or even live their lives at all, when this nightmare was over.


	6. Chapter Five

**My eternal gratitude is owed to AcrossTheSkyInStars aka Tanya Zedor. She always tells me off, in a nice way for my mis-use of to/too**

**Disclaimer: All the character names are the property of Stephenie Meyer. This storyline is my alternate universe for them to play in.**

**Chapter five**

Jasper sat on the sofa and watched the bundle on the floor. There was no movement, and it was eerie. She was wrapped tightly, so the form of a body could be distinguished, but was not clearly visible.

He waited to see if she would fidget, or struggle. He listened for her to moan, or call out in blind panic. He wondered if she knew what had happened, or if James had taken her by surprise. Despite the blood he had spied on the back of Edward's hand when they were fleeing the scene, Jasper imagined the dirty work had been carried out by James. It fuelled his hatred for him even more.

She remained immobile for the longest time. He couldn't even make out if she was breathing as there seemed to be no rise and fall of her chest.

She looked too still, and it started to scare Jasper. She looked dead.

Standing, he tentatively made his way over to her. Holding his hand above the area he believed her face to be, he waited to see if he could feel even the slightest whisper of breath.

When he couldn't feel anything, he moved his hand to her chest, pressing down lightly, hoping to feel movement. Due to the tightly bound sheets covering her entire body, Jasper was working on guesses alone when it came to where her body parts were, so when he actually squeezed her breast, feeling the softness succumb to his fingers, and palm, it was he who almost squealed and fell back in shock.

Pressing his face into his hands, Jasper felt like a dick. This was just great! When she was rescued, or released, she could add sexual assault to her long list of grievances against them.

Bending his knees, and resting his elbows on them, Jasper stayed sitting on the cold, concrete floor, mere inches from her, pressing his thumbs into his eyes and praying for this nightmare to end.

Her light groan of discomfort bought Jasper from his reverie. Scrambling to his knees, he scooted over to her and fumbled with the ties keeping her bound and covered. His hands were shaking and cold, making untying the knots quite difficult. The more he tried, the more she started to struggle, wiggling and mumbling, till her moves became so frantic Jasper couldn't keep hold of the ropes.

"Hey," he said, lightly gripping what he thought were her shoulders, and this time he guessed right. "It's ok. I'll untie you, but you have to stay still, ok?"

She didn't reply, only mumbled, but her body remained motionless, making Jasper assume she was in agreement. Rubbing his hands along his jeans, trying to ignite some warmth to them, Jasper then tried again. The knot was too tight, so he looked around for something to assist. He noticed a bag pushed beneath the table across the room. Rushing over, Jasper opened it and found an array of tools, some clothing, and a gun. Trying not to panic at the sight of the weapon, he rummaged until he found a switchblade. Flicking it open, Jasper returned to her ropes and sliced them open, freeing her.

She kicked and pulled until her face and hands were visible. They had been stuck together using silver tape, which was also pressed across her mouth. Jasper helped her move the sheets away, and then taking a hold of her hands and being careful of her skin, he sliced through the sticky bondage.

She pushed back, away from him, and lifted her hands to her face, tearing at the tape which silenced her. It must've hurt her to rip it off like that but Jasper conceded, at this point, she probably didn't really care.

Attempting to throw the tape to the floor, she started to panic when it simply stuck to her fingers. Waving them around, she shot fast glances at Jasper, as if expecting him to move. Finally getting the tape off her fingers, she lifted her legs from the sheets to free her feet. The same tape bound her ankles, and seeing this, she whimpered. The sound was so feeble it spoke volumes, as if she had seen chains holding her down rather than duct tape.

Jasper wanted desperately to help again, so he made to move towards her, but suddenly frightened by the sight of the blade, as if seeing it for the first time, she pushed away, falling onto her back. Kicking and scrambling frantically, she scurried across the basement floor, all the time her wide, terrified eyes never leaving his face.

She bumped into the table leg, and without breaking eye contact, she clutched at it and manoeuvred her body behind it, pressing her cheek to the wood as if it offered her some comfort.

Jasper could see her knees bleeding, with grazes and scratches running the length of one shin. Her school uniform was filthy, her hair was full of leaves, and the remains of a hair band were barely visible beneath the tattered mess. She literally looked like she had been dragged through a bush, backwards, and Jasper didn't doubt that with James in charge, it may actually be true.

Holding his hands up so she could see them clearly, Jasper then slowly lowered the blade to the floor, and let it go, making sure it didn't clatter. She was petrified and had no idea he meant her no harm. As far as she was concerned, she had been kidnapped and he was the only one here with her, and he was holding a knife. He was her enemy and she feared him.

This fact did not sit well with Jasper, and feeling a lump rise in his throat, he thought he might actually weep for her. He was not her enemy. He was no one to fear. He was nobody, and he certainly wasn't dangerous.

Gesturing with his hand, Jasper spoke softly, "You're bleeding."

She moved her head slightly to the side, but still refused to look away from him. He wondered if she thought he would pounce on her and attack the moment she did. He hated that look in her eyes.

Standing, Jasper made to walk up the stairs to the kitchen. He wanted to fetch warm water and a cloth to tend to her wounds, but unaware of his own clumsiness, he kicked the blade with his boot, sending it flying across the concrete to the opposite wall.

The noise startled her, and jumping back and up, she bumped her head on the table, hard. Kicking out one leg, she knocked the bag still open beside her, and it tumbled over, sending the contents sprawling out at her feet, including the gun.

Her eyes flickered to the weapon, just as Jasper's did, and then they found each other again before seeking the gun out once more. It was a mere second before they both made a mad dash for it, Jasper reaching her hand just as she gripped the handle.

Without intention, he wrestled with her, pushing her to the floor beneath him. He didn't want to hurt her, but he also didn't want to get shot at. This girl was desperate.

She cried out at his weight pushing her down hard and his hand squeezing hers. He wanted to inflict some discomfort so she would release the gun, but once more, Jasper's observation was off, and not realising her fingers had found the trigger, his own fingers applied the necessary pressure.

The gun was pointed above their heads, and luckily a wall was their target. The bang was loud, causing a ringing to whistle through their ears, the smell of sulphur overwhelming.

The shock at shooting the gun – the jolt as it off loaded, and discovering the gun was loaded in the first place – caused them both to let go and push away from each other. Jasper sat back on his hands, the surprise just as evident on his face as it was on hers.

"I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Jasper didn't know why she was apologising, no one got shot; this time. Holding up his hands, palms forward, he tried to hush her. "Hey, it's ok. I'm sorry I hurt you."

She stopped crying and lifted her hand to wipe at her tears, smearing grime across her cheek with the motion. "You are?" she hiccupped. Jasper could see she was trying hard to fight for composure.

"Of course I am. I just wanted to get you some water to clean those cuts." He gestured to her legs again.

Glancing down, it was as if she didn't even know those injuries had existed till then. She gently swept her finger across the largest, and winced.

"Listen, I'm going to stand up, get that damn gun, and put it somewhere safe, preferably away from both of us, and then go get you some water, ok?" Jasper watched as she fought a smile at his joke, and nodded. He hoped she appreciated the care he was trying to take with her. He recognised when someone was balancing on a fine line between sanity and the sweet oblivion of insanity; he had seen it on too many occasions when he looked in the mirror.

Slowly standing, Jasper walked over to the gun, and stooping to pick it up, he cocked the barrel and emptied the round, placing it in his pocket. Clicking the gun closed, he walked upstairs and placed it in the drawer by the sink. Taking the round out of his pocket, he drop that into the drawer, too, then closing it he went through the others, seeking out a clean cloth and bowl for the water.

Jasper was lucky enough to find both, and to discover the water ran hot, which surprised him in a place like this.

Carrying the cloth and bowl of warm water, he made his way back down the stairs. He was surprised to see she hadn't moved from her spot under the table.

Sitting on the floor, he wet and rung out the cloth, and made to press it against her skin. The blood was already drying, and refused to come away with just a gentle wipe.

The heat from the water felt nice against Isabella's leg, and as he had added no chemical or soap to it, there was no sting as she had expected.

He kept the cloth still, applying pressure so the combination of water and warmth worked to loosen the caked on dirt and dried blood.

While his attention was on her battered legs, she took the opportunity to look at him properly. His hair was a light brown, and while cut short at the back, it was long at the front and was falling over his eyes, causing him to flick his head every few minutes to the side in an attempt to move it out of the way. She wondered if he was even aware he did this.

His eyes had appeared dark when he was at a distance from her, but now he was close she could see they were a pale brown in colour. His lips were full, especially his bottom one, and his cheekbones visible. He had a face one would remember, even if only glanced at for a second.

Isabella looked down at his hands; his fingers were long and the backs of his hands tanned, as if he spent a lot of time working outdoors.

She wondered why he was showing her kindness and patience. She had been kidnapped, and hurt in the process. He was here with her when no one else was, but he wasn't the guy she remembered seeing in her garden as she had driven home from school. Isabella knew people didn't usually do this type of thing single-handed, so he was obviously an accomplice, and Isabella knew, despite his gentle nature, she should not, could not, and most definitely would not, trust him.

Jasper finished cleaning her leg, and rinsing the cloth, he turned his attention to the other one. He was aware of her eyes on him. She was probably weighing him up, wondering who he was and what he was doing appearing to help her. Heck, if he had found himself in her shoes, and the kidnapper was treating him this way, he'd be confused and suspicious, too. But it just wasn't in Jasper's nature to be cruel, or to sit back and watch someone else suffer. She was hurt, bleeding and scared, and if he could take away just one ounce of her pain, he would try his damn best to do just that.

He placed one palm behind her leg, cupping her calf, and gently applied the warm, wet cloth to her shin. Her skin felt cool to his touch, soft and smooth. She had a light tan; a sun-kissed hue rather than that orangey colour most girls seemed to prefer these days. Jasper surmised her colouring was from spending fun, carefree days outside, probably horse riding or playing Polo. She didn't obtain this light tan from hard, outdoor labour, not like him.

Without thinking, his thumb stroked down her calf muscle; lightly but not in a ticklish way. It was tender and almost intimate, and Isabella noticed. Her skin prickled slightly, and her eyes quickly sought his out, but his head was bent as he concentrated on cleaning her leg. She wondered if he had even realised he had done that, and why he had felt the need to. Was he trying to silently offer her comfort? Whatever it was, she hated to admit she liked his touch.

But despite the care he had shown her so far, this man was her enemy. He had helped to kidnap her, hurt her, and it was quite possible she would not get out of this alive. Isabella was no fool. She knew this type of situation could not end with her being home, warm and safe. Most kidnappers never saw their ransom demands met, resulting in the hostage being killed as a message or to be made an example of. Isabella prayed her father would not try to make an example out of the kidnappers or her. That he would not put her safety second to his pride. She knew he loved her, and he had usually put her first, but Charlie Swan did not like being made a fool of, and for a couple of working class men to break into his home, kidnap his daughter and (so far) get away with it – when he ran a successful security firm – well, that really did make Charlie Swan look foolish.

The sudden realisation of her exact situation hit Isabella hard, and she started to cry. Sobs so large they caught in her throat, making it seem impossible to breathe, choking her, causing her to make a guttural sound.

Jasper jumped back, thinking he had hurt her.

"I'm not going home, am I?" Isabella wept. Her throat was so restricted she could barely get the words out.

"Don't think like that," Jasper said.

"But it's true!" Isabella wailed, unable to contain her emotions.

"No, it's not. You will go home, you will be safe."

Isabella tried to stop crying long enough to ask, "Do you know that for a fact?"

Jasper looked away, down at the floor. His deliberate break of eye contact spoke volumes to her.

"Do you want the truth?" He asked. Isabella wasn't sure if she did, but she nodded anyway. Jasper looked back at her in time to see her acquiesce. "I am just the driver."

Isabella watched him carefully, but Jasper had glanced away again.

"What do you mean?"

Jasper shrugged. "Exactly what I said: I'm just the driver. I didn't even know the plan. My involvement is accidental, which means I don't know what the ransom demand is. I don't know where we are, or what they plan to do."

Isabella lifted her hand to her mouth. "Oh God!" Sobs wracked her body again. She dropped her hand and hugged her knees, burying her face from sight.

Jasper had no words of comfort to offer her. He dared not make a move to hold her, as he had already been too hands-on for his own liking. He simply sat back, and watched her wallow in her despair.

It hurt him to do nothing.

Many times in Jasper's life when he had seen a person suffering, he had chosen to remove himself from the situation. He liked to think of himself as the strong, silent type. Others considered him insensitive or ignorant.

The same applied to this moment in Jasper's life; he wanted to run away, but there was something in her fright which called out to him. She had not chosen to be here, she had played no part in this, and yet here she was. Held against her will and made to suffer through it.

Just like Jasper's life.

He always felt like he was just along for the ride, having no choices, no opinion, and no part in the role of his own existence.

So, instead of running, he asked her a question, "You're Isabella, right?"

She carried on crying, her head still bent, but she nodded in agreement.

"I'm Jasper," he told her.

She tried to draw a breath, but it was shuddery due to her tears. Lifting her head, she hiccupped. "Jasper?" she asked him. Jasper nodded. "Isn't that a little...old-fashioned?"

"What difference does it make?" He smiled. He was pleased to see her smile, too. It was small, and quick, but she had smiled nonetheless. "Can I ask you a question?" He politely asked.

Isabella nodded again.

"Why didn't you try to escape?"

Isabella blinked at him, unsure of when he referred to.

"I went to get water and a cloth," he motioned to the discarded items, "I was upstairs, the door was left open, yet you stayed down here. Why?"

Isabella smiled, and it was Jasper's turn to be confused.

"I did try," she admitted. "I tried to walk up the stairs but my leg-" Isabella indicated to the large gash along her shin, which now looked raw and fresh after Jasper had cleaned it.

Jasper smiled too. "Do you want to play a game?" he asked.

Isabella stared at him. "A game?"

"Sure. I say a word, and you say the first thing that comes into your head."

Isabella squinted at him, cocking her head to the side.

"Look, I'm not really in the mood for a long, heartfelt conversation, it's been a long day and all, wouldn't you agree?" She nodded. "But you need comfort and maybe a distraction from this." He gestured around the room again. "So, I think a simple game, with little thought involved, might just help us both out."

Isabella laughed. It sounded foreign and loud, and possibly a little crazy. This was not a time for laughter. "Ok," she agreed. After all, he was right; she could do with the distraction.

"Ok." Jasper tucked his legs beneath him, and leant forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands steepled and under his chin. "Ok, Hamburger."

"Fries," she responded.

"Mustard."

"Ketchup."

"Onion."

"Fried."

"Ice cream." He grinned.

"Chocolate." Isabella smiled back at him.

"Hungry."

"Starving," Isabella answered by closing her eyes and holding her stomach. She hadn't realised it before, but she really was.

"Thirsty?" Jasper asked, no longer playing the game but offering to fetch her something.

"Water," Isabella said, not knowing he had stopped playing.

"I'm asking: are you thirsty?" Jasper told her, amused.

Isabella nodded. "Water," she repeated.

Jasper stood, and made his way to the stairs. "If I could change that water to a Coke, and get some fries and a burger with it, that would be great!" She joked.

Jasper chuckled. His foot was on the bottom stair when he stopped suddenly and whipped his head up, looking at the door standing ajar above him. There was a noise, but Isabella couldn't discern what it was.

Jasper quickly looked back at her, and then practically running, he slid to the floor by her side, gripping her hands. "I'm sorry, I have to go. I will try to get you something, but it may be a while." He looked up at the stairs again, and Isabella mirrored him, only she didn't know who or what she was looking for. "Do me a favour, don't question him. Don't argue with him. Don't even speak to him. Ok?"

"Why?"

"It's just better that way," Jasper told her, letting go of her hand.

Standing, he moved across the room until he stood in the shadows. He bowed his head and clasped his hands together in front. If Jasper was her enemy and he was scared, what hope did she really have?

He had shown fear, real fear, at what was about to come, and all the calm that Jasper had instilled in her over the last hour suddenly dissipated and another emotion took over.

Pure terror.


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter six**

Isabella wanted to hide in the shadows, along with Jasper, but she was too scared to move. She waited with bated breath for the real enemy to reveal himself, and it took forever.

She could hear him moving around upstairs, in fact it sounded like more than one person was up there. She could even hear voices but couldn't make out their words. There was laughter, and she immediately hated them for finding humour in a place like this. They knew what they had done, they knew what awaited them down here; to listen to them move about – seemingly so nonchalant – really pissed her off. It hadn't gone unnoticed to Isabella that only moments before they had arrived, both she and Jasper had been laughing, too. But somehow, this was different.

She sat near the table, and watched the door. Every so often her eyes sought out Jasper on the other side of the room. She longed to speak to him, but his posture persuaded her it was a bad idea.

Eventually, the door opened wider and footsteps echoed down the stairs as three men made their way into the basement.

"Why was that door open?"

Isabella looked up at the man who had spoken, and recognised the stranger from her garden. A cloudy memory of him standing over her, pressing something down onto her face, resurfaced, but she shook her head, unable to fix on it properly.

"I'll deal with you in a minute!" He pointed his finger at Jasper before squatting down on his haunches in front of her. "Hello, Isabella Swan." He clicked his tongue and it annoyed Isabella. He had been in her presence for mere seconds but his arrogance enveloped the room. Without anyone else talking, or making a move towards her, she knew this man was the one in charge.

"I'm James." He held out his hand as if he expected her to shake it. She didn't want to touch him, and this was no time for pleasantries, but this man was dangerous. She was torn between spitting in his face and ignoring him. She hesitated too long and he smiled, clicking his tongue again. "I understand," he said. "You're a little confused as to what is going on here. I am, too. For example, when I left here, I was sure you were bound and gagged, yet when I return you are sitting here, like there's no care in the world. How did that happen?"

Standing, James walked over towards Jasper. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from her?"

"No," Jasper replied.

"What?" James stared at him, incredulous. It was so unlike Jasper to answer him back.

"You told me not to talk to her, or let her go. As you can see, she's still here, and I was standing in this corner when you came in, so I did exactly as you asked," Jasper lied.

James continued to stare at Jasper, and then lifting his hand, he patted him on the cheek. It was a little harder than Jasper would've liked, but at least it wasn't a full-blown slap. "Good boy!" James patronised, grinning.

Isabella tried not to look at the other men in the room. It didn't bode well for her safety that he had introduced himself to her, had offered her his hand, uncaring of leaving fingerprints behind, and she had seen both him and Jasper, so an identification could be made.

She tried to swallow, but that lump of fear had returned, and she couldn't.

James walked back over to her, and gripping her arms, he yanked her to her feet, causing Isabella to cry out as his fingers pinched her skin. Throwing her at the chair, Isabella stumbled and fell to the floor instead, but as she did her chin caught the edge of the wooden seat, jarring her jaw and snapping her head up. She bit her tongue and could taste blood. Opening her mouth, she let some trickle out. She would rather spit than swallow the taste of blood.

At seeing James hurt Isabella again, Jasper stepped forward, out of the shadows. "You leave her be," he challenged James.

James turned to stare at Jasper in shock for the second time in only a few minutes. "Are you threatening me, Jasmine?"

"Did I threaten you?" Jasper knew he was just provoking him now, but his anger was bubbling away beneath the surface and he struggled to contain it. This was a first for him. "I simply said leave her be. She's already injured, and if we need to prove she's still alive, with a camera or photos, don't you think her father would be more willing to pay up if he sees she's still in one piece?"

Jasper was grasping at straws, and he knew it. He just hoped James didn't.

But it seemed to work, as James nodded in agreement, and then more gently this time, he took Isabella's arm and helped her onto the chair.

Squatting down in front of her again, he rested his arms across her knees. "I'm sorry." He smiled at her, but she didn't return it. "How can I make it up to you? Food? Water?"

Isabella wanted to clutch at her face and hold the painful area, as if holding it could possibly soothe it. She longed to put ice on it and wondered if she looked as battered and bruised as she felt. She was too scared and too sore to speak, so she simply stared at him.

"Hey! I'm talking to you." He patted her face just as he had done to Jasper, but it stung Isabella's cheek. Closing her eyes, she winced at the impact.

"I told you to leave her be!" Jasper stepped up to James and pushed his shoulder, moving his arm away from her face and causing James to lose his balance.

Jumping up, James swung his fist at Jasper, connecting with his jaw. Jasper's head snapped round, and falling to his knees, he heard Isabella scream.

"Jasper!"

This was all the ammunition James needed. "Jasper?" He grabbed her arms and yanked her to her feet. "Jasper? So you know his name, which means he did more than untie you! He fucking spoke to you?"

"Please," Isabella sobbed. "You're hurting me." James pushed her back till she hit the wall.

Out of her peripheral, she noticed one of the other men make to move towards them, but the larger of the two stopped him, shaking his head.

This James really had them all by the short and curlies.

"I said no talking to you, and no untying you. _I_ am in charge here, and yet no one seems to listen! So I will continue to fucking hurt you until someone pays some attention to me!"

As he spoke, he pulled her away from the wall slightly only to push her back against it again, harder each time.

Isabella was sobbing so much that by the time he released her, she fell to the floor in a heap. She stayed there while they left the basement, only looking up to see Jasper, holding his jaw, glance back at her before he was pushed up the stairs by a man with messy hair.

Through her tears, she saw the light disappear as the basement door was closed, and through her sobs, she heard the click of a lock.

She remained in a heap, crying and praying, and hoping that someone would come and save her from this nightmare.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter seven**

Isabella needed to use the bathroom.

She waited for someone to come downstairs; in fact she both dreaded and wanted it. If one of them did come down, she hoped it was anybody other than James. She didn't want to ask for such an intimate request from him.

But as time passed, she became desperate and started looking around the basement for the most ideal place. It needed to be furthest from her, and the most private, where none of her kidnappers would venture. To remove her dignity was the final straw in this horror.

But the basement had no windows, or ventilation, as far as Isabella could tell, so any bathroom visits she made...well, they would soon become noticeable, very noticeable indeed.

She tried to hold it in.

At a guess, she had been down here for hours now, so surely someone would come by to check on her soon, or deliver some food and water.

Isabella tried, she tried so hard to wait, but it soon changed from uncomfortable to just plain painful. She had to go, she had to go now.

Standing and carefully trying not to put too much weight on her sore leg, she hobbled over to the far corner. It was hidden beneath the stairs, so if anyone did open the door, they couldn't see her without coming all the way down.

She was very aware that she had no paper to wipe with, so being as desperate as she was, in so many ways, Isabella removed her school socks. She tucked one away in her jacket pocket, and kept hold of the other. Using the wall for support, she kicked at the ground for debris, and feeling confident the ground was free from items she was about to soil, she dropped to her hands and knees and felt around for any little creatures that may decide to attack, should she accidentally spray them.

Isabella's bladder screamed at the constant delays, and happy there were no giant, man-eating spiders, or rodents laying in wait, and fearing she could not hold it in any longer, she lowered her underwear and squatted.

When she was done, she used the sock she still had a hold of, and then folded it and placed that in her other pocket. Something told her she would need to use it more than once.

Isabella made her way slowly back across the basement, and ignoring the wooden chair still standing in the centre of the room, she chose instead to sit near the leg of the table again. It was impossible to derive comfort from it, or to truly hide behind it, but for reasons unknown to her, it had become her safe place in this hellhole.

As she waited for food and water to arrive, if it ever would, she cried.

She cried for her lost freedom, lost dignity, and loss of basic human rights. She cried for her hunger, her pain, her fear and the life and friends she had left behind.

Curling up in a ball, under the table, she cradled her head on the backs of her hands and let her tears continue falling. They pooled in her eye sockets, near her mouth, and around the ridges of her nose. They dripped onto her hands and arms, and down her chin, but she made no move to wipe them away. To feel them was a reminder that for now, despite her despair, she was still alive.

Isabella awoke to the sounds of footsteps and banging above her head. She listened to hear if any of those footsteps would be making their way towards the basement door, but they didn't.

When the banging stopped, she could hear voices, but once again, could not decipher the words spoken. She recognised the voice of James but not the other. She surmised it was probably the messy haired guy, or the big burly one who had stood silently and watched James hurt both her and Jasper.

She lay her head back down on her hands and listened. They had no idea how lucky they were to be able to walk about a kitchen and prepare food and make coffee, or to pour water, or open a bottle of beer from the fridge.

Closing her eyes, she imagined that bottle of beer and the condensation that would trickle down as warm hand met chilled glass. She tried to lick her lips as her imagination took the open bottle up to a parched tongue, and how the freeze would finger its way down the throat and into the stomach, but Isabella's mouth was too dry. She realised her lips were starting to feel rough and she longed for the basics of Chap Stick or Vaseline to rub against them.

Keeping her eyes closed, she fantasized that the person upstairs was enjoying their ice cold beer, along with a giant club sandwich, or hot dog, or even a cheeseburger. Her mind let her feed on all the foods she and Jasper had mentioned in their single word game, and many more, and eventually she fell asleep again, with her mouth open and her stomach growling.

The next time Isabella woke, there was nothing but silence. The darkness seemed eerie and somehow different. She guessed it was because it was also dark outside. She was glad of the quiet as her head was pounding.

She needed the bathroom again, and rather than wait it out like she had attempted to earlier, Isabella tried to stand and go, but a wave of dizziness took over, so she simply crawled across the basement floor to her area.

Using the same sock as before, she finished and made her way back to her table. Isabella pondered on the body's need to devoid her lower half of water when her upper half craved it. She was so thirsty a thick coating had developed in her mouth and throat.

Shivering, Isabella tried to pull her jacket around her more tightly, but the cold from the concrete floor had crept into her bones, and only a hot bath or steaming shower would help defrost her limbs now.

And with that, it was warm water and not food and drink which lulled Isabella back to sleep again. She longed to wash her hands and face, and roll on some deodorant. Her hair felt tattered and was starting to irritate the back of her neck.

Her clothes were filthy and she felt disgusting, and as she drifted to sleep, she pondered on all the basic things she took for granted in her everyday life. She vowed if she ever saw the sun again, she would stop and appreciate its warmth and blinding light. She would marvel at the blue of the sky and the many hues of green in the trees. Isabella promised herself she would be a better person after this nightmare was over. It was her silver lining in all of this.

Isabella still had a headache when she next woke up. She didn't have the energy to sit, so she remained curled in a ball on the floor. She was so cold, and her body ached from the hard concrete, but it was too much effort to move. She wanted to cry but could only make the faces; no tears would come.

It had been hours since she had spoken to any of her kidnappers. She wondered if they planned to leave her down here until her father paid up.

Then it suddenly occurred to Isabella that he may already have paid up, and she had been abandoned down here. She couldn't recall the last time she'd heard movement above her.

If they had gone and left her, then there was no hope of anyone ever finding her, which meant she was going to die in this hellhole and rot, all alone, amongst the cobwebs and her own urine.

It couldn't get more tragic than this, but yet she couldn't summon the tears or the will to cry. Hope had left her long ago. All she had left was this horror.

Jasper watched James and waited.

He watched him eat and drink and sit in front of the TV, and he waited for him to give Jasper permission to go take food and water to Isabella, or better yet, to leave the house so Jasper could just go down to her anyway.

He wondered if she was ok, which, in reality, was silly. How could she possibly be ok?

At one point, James had fallen asleep, so Jasper made his way to the basement door; pressing his ear to it, he could just make out her muffled sobs.

It hurt him to hear that.

He hated this entire situation. He hated his brothers for agreeing to this, and he hated that he had become involved, too. He also hated the fact that it was her down there. From his small interaction with her, she had seemed bright and sweet, and she did not deserve this.

Jasper started to ponder on how James had come up with such a plan. Why had he chosen Charlie and Isabella Swan as his targets? How had he known how to get into their property and exactly what time she would be there when no one else was? At least Jasper prayed no one else had been there. He didn't think he could handle the fact that someone had been hurt, or worse, killed.

He'd had the same thought a thousand times, but it just would not go away. This was so wrong, and he wanted desperately to put it right. He _itched_ with the need to do anything to help her; even if it was just giving her water to drink, it was something.

And despite what people thought of him, it was not to get the sympathy vote. Jasper knew if this ended with them all in court, he was just as guilty as the rest, and it wouldn't matter to the jury if he had given her sustenance, they had kidnapped her.

Jasper waited all night for his time to move, and it finally arrived when James and Emmett left to get supplies. This meant they were out of beer, but Jasper didn't care what the reason was, he just wanted them to leave. Edward was asleep, so being careful not to disturb him, Jasper grabbed a piece of fruit and a bottle of water, as well as some other items he thought she may need, and unlocked the basement door.

As Jasper made his way down, the smell of urine grew strong. He grimaced, but not at disgust of Isabella, but for the fact that she'd had no choice but to use this place as her toilet.

It was so wrong. He couldn't get away from that.

Clicking on the lone light bulb, he found her curled up under the table. The contents he had spilled from the bag under there, yesterday, were still scattered, including the clothing. He wondered why she hadn't thought to use it as a pillow or blanket.

Placing the things he carried down on the ground, Jasper reached for the sweater. Folding it, he carefully lifted her head and lay her back down on the softness. Isabella moaned but he wasn't sure if it was in pain or pleasure.

Sitting back, Jasper waited. He wanted to see her open her eyes. He hoped she would before James came back.

He didn't need to wait long.

As Isabella woke slowly, she became aware of another presence in the room with her. Jolting up, she knocked her head on the underside of the table before noticing, with relief, that it was Jasper watching her sleep.

Leaning down on her elbow, Isabella's hand touched the sweater, and she looked at it and then to Jasper in question.

"A pillow for your head." He smiled, then picking something up, he held out his hand to her.

Isabella looked at his outstretched palm. Reaching out, she took it, and lifting it to her nose she inhaled its sweet perfume. "A peach," she exclaimed, as if she had never seen one before.

Jasper laughed. "I have water if you prefer?" He handed her the bottle, which she snatched up and gulped down too fast. Before he could warn her, she stopped drinking, and leaning away from him, she threw up.

Jasper went to her, and rubbed her back. "You drank too fast," he stated.

Isabella nodded. She knew it was too quick, but she had been unable to slow down. The liquid had been like molten gold to her parched throat and tongue. It had taken half the bottle before she had felt like she'd even had a drink.

As she caught her breath again, Jasper picked up the abandoned peach and held it out to her again. "Try eating, the juice may help."

Isabella wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and then held out her hand and hesitated. Jasper noticed. "My hands are dirty," she whispered, as if it was her fault and she was ashamed.

Jasper looked through the other items he had bought down for her, and handed her a packet of baby wipes.

Isabella was as equally shocked at his thoughtfulness as she was pleased.

"It's not a hot, bubble bath," he shrugged, "but-"

"No," she replied, "it's better." She knew that he knew it wasn't totally true, but at that precise moment, it held some truth for her.

Opening the packet, Isabella used one for her hands, then another for her face and neck. The cool wet cloth felt like a blessing, and even though Isabella didn't say it to Jasper, she was incredibly grateful and touched by his sensitivity.

"I feel positively spoiled," she told him instead, and smiled at him.

She wanted to clean more of herself but thought it best to wait for Jasper to leave before she attacked her armpits and privates.

Feeling cleaner, she lifted the peach and bit into it. The fuzz of the skin succumbed to her teeth, spilling the juicy flesh onto her tongue. She dribbled as there was too much juice to catch, and closing her eyes, Isabella moaned and chewed at the same time. She didn't care what she looked or sounded like. It tasted as good as heaven to her deprived taste buds.

"Good?" Jasper laughed.

Isabella nodded, keeping her eyes closed.

She finished the peach, and without care, she sucked on the stone till there was no trace of fruit left on it. Taking out another wipe, she cleaned her sticky hands and fingers.

Sitting in silence, they both relaxed back against the walls, facing one another. It was the first time Isabella had been able to sit with someone, and yet not feel it necessary to talk.

Sipping her water slowly this time, she watched him as he picked at his jeans, and she wondered how he had gotten involved in all of this. He didn't seem evil, especially when he had shown her care, consideration, and had shown James contempt. Had he been dragged into this as unwillingly as she had been?

If that was true, then it was possible Jasper's freedom was just as much a prisoner as she was, and this made them comrades.

Isabella hadn't wanted to feel compassion for him; he was involved, no matter how it had come about, yet she did feel it.

But there was more. She liked him. How could she not when he had stood up for her, freed her from the sheets and tape, bought her food and water, as well as baby wipes to clean herself? Yes, she liked him, she felt comfortable with him, and she didn't want him to go back upstairs and leave her here, all alone.

"Thank you, Jasper," she told him. "For this." She gestured with her head at the items he had given her.

To Isabella's disbelief, Jasper blushed. He ducked his head and tried to hide it, but she noticed.

"I have to go," he said, standing and brushing his hands down his legs.

"Do you have to?" she asked, trying not to sound desperate.

Jasper looked at her, a little more intently than he ever had before. It was like he could hear something in her voice which she had tried to hide.

"I wish I didn't," he replied, and it may have only been four little words, but to Isabella he said everything she wanted to hear.

She watched him walk slowly up the basement stairs, and then he closed the door and shut out the light.

Isabella recalled his words.

_I wish I didn't_

It wasn't much, but for the first time since she had been here, Isabella no longer felt alone.


	9. Chapter Eight

**My eternal gratitude to AcrossTheSkyInStars aka Tanya Zedor for not physically smacking me upside the head with a giant, foam shaped 'to'. I will learn one day, I promise to make it my misson to...(did I get it right?) *winks***

**Disclaimer: The character names belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

**Chapter eight**

Jasper made it back up the stairs just in time to see that James had returned. He was standing outside, talking to a man in a grey BMW. Jasper couldn't see the man clearly as the sun was reflecting off his windshield, but Jasper didn't recognise the car, and for just a moment, he wondered if they had been caught.

He felt sick to the stomach, waiting for a sign that the game was up, but James threw back his head and laughed. Patting the window where he leaned, and then standing up straight, he stepped back and the man drove away.

Jasper waited until James walked inside.

"Who was that?" he asked him.

James raised an eyebrow. "You spying on me?"

"No,"

"Good." James laughed and patted Jasper's cheek again, hard. That single motion was really starting to piss him off. Jasper hated the fact that James could laugh at all while they were waiting to be paid or arrested. It was also wrong of him to find humour in Isabella's pain. Jasper hated him even more than usual just then, and that was already a lot.

"Have you heard anything yet?" Jasper was referring to the ransom, and James understood this. He shook his head and walked past Jasper, into the kitchen. Jasper made a silent decision that should the money be paid, and they release Isabella, he didn't want a single penny of it. His hands were dirty enough.

"Here." James handed him a sandwich from the bag he carried. It was tuna mayo. "Take this down to her. She must be starved by now."

Jasper narrowed his brows at James. It was a surprisingly caring act, and completely out of character.

"She'll need some water, too," Jasper suggested.

"Sure." James grabbed his beer and walked away.

Happy he was allowed to go down to her without fear of being chastised for it later, Jasper picked up the sandwich and another bottle of water, and unlocked the basement door.

He clicked on the lone light bulb and found Isabella sitting near her table, her knees crossed beneath her. She smiled at him, and Jasper wanted to believe it was because it was him and not that she just wanted another person to talk to.

"I come bearing gifts." He smiled. Crouching, he handed her the food and water.

"You're too kind to me, Jasper." She smiled, looking him in the eyes.

His stomach clenched a little. "If that were true, then I would make it so that you were never in this room." Blushing, he quickly looked away. She didn't respond and he was too scared to look at her. He changed the subject and hoped it would change the thick mood which had descended. "I'd like to take credit for it, but the sandwich was James' idea. I suggested the water," he added.

"In that case, the water is my favourite part," she said. Jasper peeped up through his hair to see her cradling the water bottle, running her finger over the condensation. She cocked her head and coyly looked over at him; catching him watching her.

She smiled and winked, and he wondered if she was flirting with him.

He sat down opposite her and watched her eat and drink. She took her time, sipping and chewing as if she was at a family picnic in the park, rather than locked inside this smelly basement. Her empty stomach growled so loudly he could hear it from across the room.

He looked away each time she glanced at him. He hoped she didn't think he was strange for staring but the truth was he couldn't help it; she fascinated him. He marvelled at how calm she seemed, despite the tears he had heard her cry the day before. He knew she must be scared and uncomfortable. He had brought her the baby wipes because he had considered how filthy she must be feeling, and in his mind it was nothing extreme, but she had reacted as if he had handed her the door key, and showed her freedom. He wished he could do just that. He wished he had the courage to stand up for her and help her escape.

She was so brave and she had strength of character, he could see that just by knowing her for these last few hours. He really admired it.

While he was scared and timid, and wanted to hide from James all the time, she had smiled and winked at him. He knew she had used the floor as a toilet, he could smell it, but she didn't shy away from him, embarrassed and undignified. Instead, she met his gaze and she remained decorous.

Jasper thought Isabella Swan was incandescent, and he was glad this nightmare had not extinguished her glow.

"Can I ask you a question?" Isabella finished eating and set down the empty wrappers.

Jasper nodded.

"How did you get involved in this?"

Jasper took a moment to respond and Isabella worried she had offended him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – insult you," she muttered.

"You didn't," he simply said. "I was just trying to find the beginning."

Isabella looked at him. He had barely told her anything, but she already knew his story didn't just begin with her kidnapping; his story went back much further than this.

"You said you were just the driver," Isabella reminded him.

He nodded. "I was. But I didn't know what for. I was just told to wait outside. I thought it was a burglary."

"Don't take this the wrong way," she began. "But that still disappoints me."

Jasper looked up at her. "What, that I would burgle a home?"

Isabella held up her hands. "I'm sorry. It's just that you seem – different."

Jasper stared at her. "From who?"

"The others."

"Two of those 'others' are my brothers," he stated.

"But not James?" she asked him.

Jasper shook his head. "No."

"You seem relieved."

Jasper snorted. "Understatement."

"Are we playing the single word game again?" She tried to smile. The mood had become darker at the mention of James.

Jasper looked down. "He's evil," he told her. "There's something missing, something which makes the rest of us human." Jasper shook his head. "He doesn't have that. He's – malevolent." Jasper pressed his fore finger to his temple as if to illustrate how mental James was. Isabella didn't need Jasper to demonstrate, she had met him.

"How are you friends with him?"

Jasper head snapped up. "Friends?" he asked, incredulous. Jumping to his feet, he began to pace.

Isabella started to fear she had really crossed the line and she hadn't even known where it was drawn.

_Note to self_, she thought, _never mention James again!_

Jasper spun round to face her. "Does it look like we're friends?" He stormed off towards the stairs and as he began to climb, Isabella jumped up, too.

"Please, please don't leave me," she begged. But Jasper was hurt and he ignored her.

The closing of that basement door didn't just shut out the light, it closed off another part of her heart; the place where hope lived.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter nine**

"Sir? Did you call the FBI?" Jacob Black stood in the doorway. He had yet to set foot in the room where they believed Isabella was when she had been taken.

He watched Charlie Swan turn to face him. "No," was all he said. He was a man of few words at the best of times. At the worst of them, he was no different.

"Well, they're here, and they're talking to the DI."

Charlie nodded, and stepping away from the window, he made his way downstairs and outside to greet the new arrivals. They had arrived sooner than he'd expected.

He recognised Federal Agent Aro immediately, as they had worked together many years previous. That job had arisen from a series of burglaries, and Charlie had been called in to establish a better security system. It had turned out to be an inside job, which Aro had figured out and clued Charlie in on. Between the both of them, they had the son of a bitch incarcerated. They had worked well together, but this time Charlie knew Aro was playing for a different team.

Aro was leaning against a silver car when Charlie stepped up. He was talking to DI Sam Uley who was in the driver's seat, admiring the dashboard. To Charlie it looked like Cape Canaveral.

Pushing away from the frame, Aro stood straight and greeted his old friend. He placed one hand over the top of Charlie's as he shook it with the other. "I'm so sorry," he began.

Charlie nodded his head. "What you doing in these parts?"

"I heard about Isabella, and came to offer my assistance."

"I appreciate that," Charlie removed his hands from Aro's grasp, "but DI Uley here has it all under control."

They both looked at Sam Uley, who had been looking inside Aro's car at the immaculate interior. Aro hadn't minded his obvious appraisal of the new car. In fact, he had positively glowed when Sam had asked to take a look inside.

Hearing them refer to him by name, Sam carefully backed out of the car and nodded at Charlie.

"I'm sure Uley does have this under control, but let me take a look around. Show me the clues you have, maybe I can help – piece things together." Aro waved his hand around as he talked, and then reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a pack of cigars; he lit one and inhaled, all the while eyeing Charlie and waiting for a response.

Charlie watched his old friend, and observed he was nervous. He couldn't keep his hands still, and while he made eye contact with Charlie, it was deeply intense, like he was willing himself to _not_ look away.

Something was off. Charlie had thought it when he found the note and he thought it now, as he watched his old friend. He hadn't wanted to be suspicious but this small exchange had told Charlie more than enough.

He was reminded of Aro's cunning and devious mind, which Charlie had admired when they were both trying to ascertain who the bad guy was. But now, Aro just reminded Charlie of a snake.

He had suspected it could be someone he knew only minutes after he had discovered Isabella was gone. He had surmised this as well as the fact that whoever it was, was not working alone. Watching Aro, Charlie knew his suspicions had been right, yet he hated that.

Aro had someone else do the dirty work for him, and that someone had been given access to Charlie's home, as there was no sign of a break-in. Everything was too clean, too...normal.

Charlie was an observant man. It was this skill which had helped him build his successful business, and that skill did not fail him the day Isabella was taken.

Who was left to trust?

He could feel the anger creep into his stomach and lay there like a giant rock. It took all of his power not to punch Aro in the face. But Charlie knew he had to remain stoic. He couldn't let Aro see he was onto him. He had to let him play his little game.

Charlie cleared his throat. "Like I said, it's under control." He turned to DI Uley and gestured for them to go back inside. "But thanks for coming out here," Charlie threw back over his shoulder. "And nice ride." He smiled, nodding towards the BMW.

Aro watched them leave through narrowed eyes. Something was wrong here. Charlie had declined his help and Aro knew that Charlie knew a Federal Agent was more use to him than a meagre Detective Inspector, who looked like he had graduated all of three minutes ago.

Aro finished his smoke and threw the cigar butt across the gravel drive. Climbing into his car, he picked up his cell and dialled.

"It's me. No. I couldn't get inside. He refused." Aro nodded as the person on the line replied. "He must know something. How should I know? He wouldn't let me in, or show me their evidence. I know, I know!" Gripping the steering wheel, Aro tried not to shout. "Watch your mouth! I will deal with this, and then I will deal with you!"

Disconnecting the call, Aro threw his phone into the back seat. Glaring up at the house, he started the engine and drove away.

Charlie waited till Aro had driven through the security gates and then he walked back outside to the driveway. Pulling two plastic bags from his pocket, he covered his hand with one, and then picking up the cigar butt, he placed it in the other. Tying the end together, he handed it to Sam.

"If you didn't call them, why did they come here?" Jacob asked as he watched Charlie and Sam.

Charlie stood and brushed his hands down his trouser leg, then softly combed his moustache as he continued to stare after the long departed car.

"Exactly," he eventually replied.

"You want to tell me what's going on, Charlie?" Sam walked into the office and over to Charlie's desk. He was sat in his high-backed leather chair, his hands resting at his sides. "Telling me why I placed a tracker and a microphone in his car would be a good start."

Charlie didn't reply, he simply leant forward and clicked a button on a remote.

Aro's voice filled the room:

'It's me. No. I couldn't get inside. He refused. He must know something.'

'Like fucking what? Does he have any proof?'

'How should I know? He wouldn't let me in, or show me their evidence.'

'Why would he refuse? This is bad!

'I know, I know!'

'He is gonna pay, ain' he? Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is bad!'

'Watch your mouth! I will deal with this, and then I will deal with you!'

Charlie clicked the remote again, and the recording echoed across the room, once more. They both sat silently, listening to the exchange.

"Any idea who the other guy is?"

Charlie shook his head. "Nope. But I do know that man has my daughter. The tracker you placed has been activated but he hasn't gone anywhere, just to a diner off the interstate."

Sam nodded. "I'll get a man on him..."

Charlie interrupted. "No, Sam, this is my daughter. I don't trust anyone else. _You_ will shadow him, and _you_ will tell me where he goes. Understood?"

Sam didn't feel it was appropriate to remind Charlie who was the DI here and who was the civilian. But he felt the need to ask. "So why trust me?"

Charlie raised an eyebrow and sat back. Sam already knew the answer. He owed Charlie, he owed Charlie big. So he simply saluted him, and taking the tracking device from Charlie's desk, he left to go follow Aro, and hopefully, at some point, this would lead them to Isabella.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter ten**

Jasper was too mad to go back down into the basement. He couldn't understand how she would think he was friends with that jackass. He knew he was thinking irrationally. For starters, he was here in this terrible situation alongside James. But she had seen how James treated him, so why would she think he was capable of being his friend?

It made him furious to know she thought so little of him. He liked her, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, her opinion of him mattered.

When he looked at her, he saw all the good and kindness that the world had kept hidden from him. The only other person who had ever shown him that sort of kindness and consideration was his brother, Edward, who had sacrificed a great deal to take care of his family.

Edward was the reason Jasper was here, not James! Jasper would do anything for his brother, even die for him!

But then Isabella arrived in his life; with her luminous glow and vitality. And she had shown him there was good in the world. People could be kind, and loyal, sweet and funny, and she brought out the protective side in him. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and protect her from the rest of the world. Jasper had never wanted to stand out in a crowd before. He had never wanted to be noticed, or acknowledged, but when he was in that basement with Isabella Swan, Jasper felt like he was the core of the earth. When she looked at him, she saw him, and that moved him.

She made Jasper want to stand up and fight for what was right, and no one had ever invoked that reaction in him before, because before Isabella, Jasper didn't think anyone was worth fighting for.

But of course, she didn't know any of that because he hadn't told her. He had just stormed off like a sulky teenage girl, and left her down there.

She didn't deserve that.

He was no better than James.

Jasper made his way into the lounge. There was no furniture to depict the room as such, only a couple of crates and one arm chair. No one else was around, so Jasper sat and plotted.

He thought about helping her; when would be the ideal time and how he would do it. He also considered what would happen if he were caught, and although the very thought of it unnerved him, the alternative of leaving her here to await her fate was far more terrifying.

Jasper heard a car pull up out front, and dragging himself out of the chair, he went to the window to look.

A silver BMW had parked on the drive, and James was getting out. It was the same car Jasper had seen James leaning against only the day before. Once more, Jasper wondered who the car belonged to. He started to make his way outside when the car drove away in a cloud of smoke, and James came storming up the porch steps.

Banging through the front door, he turned and started punching the screen. His language was foul.

"Fucking bitch!" He screamed, punching over and over again, until the wire mesh gave in and was left hanging off the door frame.

Jasper was shoved hard in the chest as James shouldered past him, and headed towards the basement.

Jasper panicked. "Wait!" he called out, hoping to stall James. He was dangerous in this mood.

James spun on his heel. "What!"

"What's going on, man? Who was that in the car?"

"None of your fucking business!" James started towards the door again.

"If this has something to do with her, then it is my business!" Jasper spat.

James stopped, and turned much more slowly this time. "Oh really?"

"We are in this together," Jasper reminded him. "If there's a problem with her, it affects us all."

James studied him carefully. "You really want to know?"

Jasper nodded.

James smiled and walked back to Jasper. "It appears daddy dearest cares nothing about her, because he's refused to pay the ransom!" James opened up a kitchen drawer and took out a carving knife. He pressed his thumb to the blade and Jasper watched, waiting for the pressure to draw blood. "This means we have to dispose of her." He peered up at Jasper through the corner of his eye, and the coldness Jasper saw there positively chilled him.

This man had no soul.

"What do you mean by that?" Jasper asked, his voice shaking.

James laughed. "What do you think I mean?" He turned to make his way towards the basement door, but Jasper placed his hand on his arm and stopped him. James looked down at Jasper's hand, surprised by the actual contact.

Jasper heard the door bang behind him, indicating one or both of his brothers had arrived home.

"Let me ask," Jasper started, "who that man was in the car?"

James paused before he replied, "My business associate." He raised an eyebrow at Jasper, challenging him.

Jasper ignored him and continued. "And it was your 'business associate' who told you Charlie Swan had refused to pay?"

James narrowed his eyes, and shook Jasper's hand off. "You're starting to get on my nerves!"

"What's going on?" Edward asked from behind Jasper.

"He's pissing me off," James spat, and turned to walk off.

"I heard him ask you a question!" Edward said.

James stopped and turned back again. "Are you challenging me too, brother?"

Edward squared his shoulders. "You're not my brother, James, but he is. Now answer the question!"

James let out a strangled laugh, "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Nobody spoke, only waited.

James looked from one brother, to the other, and even though Jasper had not turned to look behind him, he knew Emmett was there, too.

"I'll tell you this much, she has no worth to me now." Throwing the knife down, he stormed out.

Jasper watched him go, and it was minutes before he felt like he could breathe again.

"What's going on?" Edward asked Jasper.

"Don't ask me," Jasper replied, lifting his shaking hands to his face and rubbing his cheeks. He felt numb.

"I'm not talking about James," Edward spoke softly.

Jasper looked up at him, through his fingers. "What are you talking about, then?"

Edward raised his brow as if to illustrate Jasper knew exactly what he meant.

"Jasper, have you ever heard of 'Stockholm's Syndrome'?"

Jasper shook his head, and lowered his hands.

"It refers to a kidnapper and their hostage developing a – a bond." He watched Jasper's face for a reaction.

"Why do they call it 'Stockholm'?"

"Of all the questions to ask me, you think of that one?" Edward smiled. Then he gently placed his hand on Jasper's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "It's something to do with the first case of hostage and kidnapper bonding."

"Probably happened in Stockholm," Emmett piped up.

"What has this got to do with me?" Jasper asked.

"You seem to be quite protective of her," Edward said.

"She's helpless," Jasper became defensive.

"Of course she's helpless, we made her that way. And we did it for a reason."

"I don't like it."

"We did it for money, Jasper, money which we need."

"Don't you feel guilty?" Jasper asked him. He desperately wanted Edward to say yes. He wanted to know his brother had remorse for this.

"Of course I do, but I block it out."

"How?"

"When I look at her, I see a way out, I don't see a girl."

"Well, I can't do that."

Edward grabbed Jasper by the shoulders. "I think of Alice, our baby sister, and how she will end up selling her body for pittance if we don't get her out of this shithole. Selling herself to likes of him. Edward nodded his head in the direction James had walked in. "The next time you look at Isabella Swan, you think of Alice lying under some sweaty, stinking fat ass jerk, getting his end away, and then you will see her," Edward pointed at the basement door, reluctant to keep saying her name, because calling her by name made her a person, "for what she really is." Edward rubbed his fingers together in the age old mime for 'cash'.

"You will end this 'friendship' you have going with her, or it will end you!" Edward poked at Jasper's chest.

"Why? What harm can it really do?" Jasper sounded desperate, and he was. He wanted to help her, but he felt like everything was slipping through his fingers.

"You keep pressing him for answers, all because of this immature need to save her, and it won't end well. Trust me!"

Edward walked away, leaving Emmett and Jasper alone in the kitchen.

After a few minutes of silence, Emmett spoke. "I'll take her some water."

Jasper nodded and watched him go down into the basement.

"This was never going to end well," he whispered.


	12. Chapter Eleven

******Thank you so much AcrossTheSkyInStars aka Tanya Zedor for always helping me, you're such an amazing beta, and for being a true friend. I love you Sweetcheeks :)**

**Disclaimer: The character names are the property of Stephenie Meyer.**

**Chapter eleven**

Isabella heard the basement door open, and she looked up expectantly.

It was the big, burly guy who came down, and silently he handed her some water. He barely made eye contact, choosing to look at the side of her head rather than directly at her.

Isabella watched him walk away, and sighing, she placed the bottle of water on the floor to save it for later. She didn't know how long it would be before she was given food and drink again.

She had really wanted it to be Jasper. She needed to apologise to him.

Reaching for the sweater he had handed to her, what seemed like hours ago now, she curled it up and lay her head down on it.

She watched the strip of light from under the basement door flicker as footsteps passed by, every now and again. At one point, the footsteps stopped right outside and Isabella held her breath, hopeful it was Jasper coming to see her, but after a moment or two, they moved on.

She waited all night for him, but Jasper did not come.

When Isabella woke, she had a crick in her neck. Moaning softly, she sat up and rubbed at it.

She needed the bathroom, but this time her sock would not be enough to clean her. She looked around for the baby wipes Jasper had bought down with him, and going into her corner, she squatted and did her business.

She felt like an animal, and as she waited to finish, she cried.

Right then, she hated all of them. They had stolen her from her home and hurt her, degraded her, and threatened her. In some strange way, Isabella thought if it was just about the injuries or the threats, she could cope with that and remain strong against them, but to strip her of her dignity was too much. And so she hated them for that.

And a small part of that hatred was aimed at her father.

What was taking him so long? She had no idea what time it was, or how long she had been here for, but she guessed it was closing in on 48 hours. Why hadn't he paid yet? Did she not matter to him?

They may be her kidnappers, but it was his snail's pace which kept her here.

She finished, and cleansed herself the best she could in the darkness. She wanted to find something to put the soiled wipes in, but there were no boxes or bags she could hide them in, so she had no choice but to leave them in the corner.

The basement stank, and Isabella couldn't stop her tears. The water Jasper and his brother had brought for her had topped up her tear ducts, and Isabella didn't care that the rest of her body needed that water supply; she didn't care because she was living in a toilet.

She really hated them all.

The hours continued to pass by, and Isabella remained alone.

No one brought her any more food or water. She longed to hear the sound of another voice, so she had taken to talking out loud to herself.

She pretended to have conversations with her father. They would be happy to see one another again, but then she wouldn't be able to control her anger; she would tell him how hurt she was, and how betrayed she felt. Isabella even fantasized about his side of the conversation, how he would react to her accusations and sometimes they would make up and just be happy to be safe and together again, but other times she couldn't get past the pain she felt.

She should've been rescued by now. He should've paid and she should be home.

But she wasn't. So that meant he hadn't. And it hurt.

At times, Isabella stood and walked around the basement. Her legs and back felt stiff from the coldness of the concrete floor. She longed to see some light, but hours of sitting in the dark had made her eyes accustomed. She could make out the chair and table and the walls; they had once seemed as black as the darkness but now seemed greyer and more visible.

She spent a long time watching the slither of light beneath the door. It had become her sun, and she orbited around it, her eyes always seeking it out wherever she was in the dark room; watching and waiting for movement. But no one opened the door when they walked by it, and so each shadow that passed became a cloud eclipsing her sunlight.

She had given up waiting for someone to come down to her.

Her hunger had given up, too, her stomach no longer making loud noises. She had neither the energy nor the will to care.

She stopped imagining what food tasted like.

She stopped dreaming about taking a hot shower, or a bubble bath, and inhaling as if she could smell the rose petals in the oil she would use.

Eventually, she stopped talking to herself, too.

She simply sat, and waited.

She waited for the horror to end. She waited for her hope to come back and help her believe she would see her home again. She waited for a sign that this was almost over. But absolution did not come.

No one came.

No one.

And so the light that had made her Isabella Swan flickered and died, and she had nothing left but the air she breathed.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter twelve

Jasper waited till everyone had left. He had promised Edward he would not go down to the basement, under any circumstances, but his promise was as empty as the house.

He grabbed an apple and some water, and unlocked the basement door. He wanted to take more food for her, but the fridge was bare.

As Jasper stepped through the doorway, the putrid stench of stale air and faeces hit him hard.

He walked fast, his eyes seeking her out from under the table, but she wasn't there. He reached the bottom step and quickly scanned the darkness, finding her sitting against the wall behind the stairs.

He went to her, and discovered the smell was strongest in this area.

"Isabella," he whispered, squatting down by her feet. Her eyes were open, but they looked right through him. Her face was streaked with grime, and her hair was a mound of knots.

She looked dreadful, and Jasper felt his eyes well up.

"I brought you some water," he said, but her eyes did not flicker.

He sat back and watched her as a single tear rolled from the corner of her eye and down her cheek. He lifted his hand and reached out, catching the drop on his finger.

This time she looked at him. His hand felt warm and she longed to turn her cheek into his palm, and have him cup her face.

"Isabella," he whispered, and she watched with surprise when he let his own tears fall. "Bella," he said again.

She liked it, hearing him say her name. She liked it when he shortened it; there was intimacy between them.

Reaching out her own hand, she mirrored his movements, and brushed his tears away, but she extended the motion and pressed her hand to his cheek, touching him as she longed for him to do to her.

She didn't want him to cry.

Jasper pressed his other hand on top of Isabella's, holding her in place, and shifting only slightly, he kissed her palm.

His eyes sought hers and found them.

"Come with me," he said, pulling her hand down but keeping a tight hold.

"What?"

Jasper tugged her to her feet and headed for the stairs. "We're breaking out of here," he said, turning back to smile at her. "I'm taking you home."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter thirteen

"I've found it!" Jacob slammed his hand down on the desk, causing Charlie and Sam to look up at him from the map.

"It's a small house, un-used, just off highway 32." Jacob pointed at the map, showing them both the location. "Here's the address." He handed Charlie a slip of paper which he unfolded and studied before glancing back up at Jacob.

"That transmitter is phenomenal, Boss. He went there, a few hours after leaving the diner, and he picked someone up and then they headed here," he pointed again, "where he dropped the guy off, before leaving."

"This guy he picked up, he left at this address?"

Jacob nodded.

"This is where Isabella is?"

"For sure."

"How sure?"

Jacob clicked on the microphone and Aro's voice filled the room:

'_We give him ten more hours and then we'll send him a little token from his daughter.'_

'_Why ten hours? Why not now?' _

'_It's a lot of money, James. He needs time to raise that cash.'_

'_He's had time!'_

'_Well, we give him some more, but with a little incentive to get a move on.'_

'_This is horseshit! This should have been over with by now!'_

Charlie winced as he heard James hit what he imagined was the car door with his fist. Suddenly, a gurgling sound filled the room.

'_I'm sorry,' James choked out, and then he started to cough. _

Charlie imagined Aro had gripped his throat for damaging his car, and had now let go. He wanted to choke the bastard himself!

'_Ten hours, James, and then you remove something from her person. I don't care, lock of hair, finger, and let me know when you do. Let's see what Mr__.__ Swan makes of his daughter arriving home in little bags!'_

Charlie lowered his head into his hands, but continued to listen.

'_I'll come back here to pick it up.'_

'_Why is he taking so long to pay up?' James asked._

_There was a pause before Aro responded. 'Like I said, raising the cash.'_

Charlie could hear the car hit gravel and then stop.

'_I hate this place,' James said._

'_Hey, this place was my Grandmother's!' _

Aro sounded like he was smiling.

'_Oh shit, Jasper's watching. You better go.'_

Charlie heard the car door open and slam closed, then the radio as it came on, and the wheels spinning on the gravel as Aro sped away.

Jacob clicked 'stop' on the microphone, and smiled, tapping the slip of paper he had handed to Charlie. "She's here, and we heard it from the horse's mouth!"

"When was this?" Charlie asked.

"Fifteen minutes ago," Jacob told him, looking from Charlie to Sam and back again. "Why?"

"He told that other guy I had ten more hours to pay."

"Yeah, and?" Jacob held both hands up in question.

"I paid already."

Jasper had managed to pull Isabella up three of the steps before he heard the front door slam.

Both their heads whipped round, staring at the open basement door. Jasper didn't know whether to run for it, or push her back down. Who knew how long it would before another opportunity came for them to flee? But Isabella was weak and dazed from being locked down here for days, so she was completely incapable of making a run for it.

"What the fuck?" They heard James before they saw him.

He appeared in the door like something from the macabre, scrunching his face up as the smell from inside reached him.

Isabella began to sob.

James ran down the stairs, and before Jasper could respond, James punched him in the face.

Jasper released Isabella's hand as he hit the floor.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" James yelled at him, kicking Jasper in the ribs as he curled up, covering his face. "Huh? What the fuck is going on?"

James kicked again, and Isabella screamed. "Leave him alone!" She scrambled across the floor, throwing herself over Jasper, feeling the impact of James' boot hit her square in the ribs.

All the breath left her, and she clutched at her side as if to cradle the stabbing pain.

James grabbed Isabella by her hair and pulled her across the room. She was facing the floor and trying desperately to free herself from his grasp, to stop her face hitting the concrete at the same time. She failed on both attempts, and felt her nose crack and blood fill her mouth.

James let go and Isabella tried to scramble away as he drew a knife from his side. It had been tucked between his pants and his belt buckle, and she hadn't seen it till now.

James grabbed her legs and tried to pull her back towards him, but she kicked at him and clawed at the floor, breaking two fingernails clean off in her frantic fight.

Isabella succeeded in landing a kick in James' groin, but it was only hard enough to make him grunt and let go, rather than incapacitate him altogether.

"Fuck it!" James screamed, and bending down, he picked up her finger nails. "This will have to do."

Walking over to Jasper, James kicked him again, but Jasper barely responded. His body moved with the impact, nothing more.

James walked slowly up the stairs, and looking back down at them both, he spat, then slammed the door closed, locking them both in.

Isabella weakly pushed herself up onto her hands and crawled across the floor towards Jasper. Her nose was pumping blood down her face and throat. Her lips were open to help her breathe, and bloody spittle was spraying the concrete as she crawled. Her nails had broken clean off, leaving pulp which felt like her fingers were burning.

As she reached Jasper, she collapsed down next to him, her bloody hand reaching out to touch his, but not quite making the connection before she fainted.

When Edward and Emmett arrived back at the house, James was sitting in the lounge, drinking beer.

He held the two finger nails in the palm of his hand like a prize.

"Where's Jasper and what the hell is that?" Edward nodded towards James' hand.

"Jasper is downstairs with his girlfriend," James took another sip, "and these are a gift for daddy."

"You took her fingernails?" The disgust was evident in Edward's voice.

"He needs an incentive to pay."

"Says who, James? This new friend with the fancy car who keeps turning up? Who is this guy?"

"Yes," James said, "he says."

"Is that all you've got to say?"

James shrugged.

"What did you do to Jasper?"

James shrugged again.

"If you've hurt him..."

James started laughing. "And what, Edward? What?"

Edward grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to his feet, throwing him at Emmett, who yanked James' arms around his back, causing him to wince. Edward poked his finger in James' face. "Then we will kill you!"

James started to laugh again, despite his predicament, but he stopped when he saw the look in Edward's eyes. James knew when you messed with Edward's family you woke the monster inside.

"He's fine," James stammered. "I just locked him in there to teach him a lesson. He keeps interfering, man. He was supposed to just be the fucking driver!"

Edward turned away from James and rubbed his face. He was tired of this. He'd warned Jasper to stay away.

"Emmett, go let him out," Edward said.

Emmett let go of James and walked to the basement, opening the door; he swore before covering his mouth and nose and venturing down. Moments later he reappeared carrying Jasper, who was unconscious and bleeding.

Before James could talk, Emmett had placed Jasper down on the chair, and walked back over to him, punching him in the gut. "That's for my baby brother, dick cheese!"

James crumpled to the floor, trying to catch his breath.

"Where's your phone?" Edward asked him.

James pulled it from his pocket and handed it to Edward. "Who are you calling?" he choked out.

"Your friend, what's his name?"

James ignored him, but Edward soon found the number. It was the only other name in his contacts besides his own and Emmett's.

Edward hit 'Aro' and listened as the ringing went unanswered. He tried several more times before hanging up. "Looks like he's ignoring you."

"Impossible." James had sat up and was leaning against the wall, still holding his stomach. "He's expecting me to call him."

"About your little prize there?" Edward indicated the fingernails now lying on the floor. "Let's try him again, shall we?"

But Aro didn't pick up.

Edward tapped the phone to his chin as he thought. "How about we call Charlie and ask about our money?"

"Are you nuts?" James laughed.

"You told me it was just us, then I find out there's this other guy who is actually in charge! But he ignores your calls even though he told you to call him? How do you know him, James? How do you know he can be trusted? How do you know he hasn't taken the money and ran?"

"Because he wouldn't fucking dare!"

"Seems to me that a man who can convince someone else to steal another human for him, and take all the risks, and be the person who she can identify...well," Edward crossed his arms, "seems to me like that person _would _be capable of daring to take the money and run, all the while telling you that her father hasn't paid!"

James stared at Edward, letting his words sink in.

"Well fuck me!" Emmett exclaimed. "That seems pretty callous."

"Fucking bastard!" James screamed, jumping to his feet and snatching his phone from Edward. Punching hard on the keys, he located Aro's number and pressed dial. His face became like thunder each time the call timed out. Never any answer.

"Like I said, we should call Charlie," Edward repeated.

"Or we could just go home," Emmett chipped in.

"Fuck that! I want my money!" James spat.

"Then call Charlie."

"I don't have his number," James said.

Edward pointed at James' phone. It was a new device with all the latest gadgets and apps. "Just fucking Google it!" Edward suggested.

James spent a few minutes locating the details for Swan Security Systems, and then rang the business line.

Charlie Swan felt sick. He had paid the ransom as instructed and was waiting for the message to come through that he could go collect his daughter.

But eight hours had passed and still no word.

It was time for plan B.

He was seated at his desk with Sam and his team of officers, surmising a plan to rescue his daughter. They knew where she was, they even had an idea who the other guy was that Aro had been talking to. They also knew rushing straight in there, all guns blazing, could endanger Isabella, so a strategy had to be planned out.

DI Uley had advised Charlie not to pay, to wait for his team to get in there, but Isabella meant more to Charlie than his entire world, and he was not about to take any chances with her life. He told Uley they would try his way first and that he had waited long enough. But then the bank manager had taken his sweet time clearing the funds. Charlie couldn't tell him the truth about the transaction, he would not risk it, but he still expected the bank to oblige him with a speedy account transfer, rather than pushing him to back of the queue.

He vowed to change banks when this ordeal was over.

He had paced the house, waiting for that message telling him it was safe to go get her, but each minute that passed became an hour, and then two, three, four, before he finally caved in and agreed to a rescue operation. It was now time for Sam Uley's way.

He had tried to pay attention as Sam and his team concocted their mission, but his attention kept drifting. He kept wondering what they would find when they burst into that house.

Was she alive or dead?

The business line rang, pulling Charlie back into the present. "Can you get that?" he asked Jacob.

Jacob picked up the phone. "Swan Security Systems." He paused to listen. "I'm sorry, Mr. Swan is not available, can I take a mess..." Jacob paused again, his sentence interrupted. Covering the mouth piece he offered the phone to Charlie. "Sir, you're going to want to take this!"

Charlie looked up at Jacob and noticed the colour had drained from his face. They hadn't anticipated them calling the business line; they'd always used his personal number.

"Aro?" Charlie mouthed, but Jacob shook his head.

Reaching for the phone, Charlie swallowed before speaking. His mouth had gone dry. "Swan here."

"Where's my fucking money?"

Charlie immediately recognised the caller as the guy who had chatted with Aro in his car.

"I beg your pardon?"

"My money, where is it? It's been long enough and I want my money!"

"I want my daughter!" Charlie answered back.

"Then you should've paid sooner!"

"I did pay. I paid over eight hours ago. And I was promised someone would leave me details on how to find Isabella."

"You...paid?" James was choked. Fury was threatening to overtake his entire being, and he shook as he tried to reign in enough control to finish this conversation.

Charlie started to panic. If Aro had taken the money and not told his colleagues, that meant Isabella was dead, or she soon would be.

"I paid," Charlie repeated. "Now give me my daughter!"

The line went dead.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter fourteen

James dropped his phone, and for the first time since this whole charade had began, he felt physically sick.

That bastard had cheated him out of his share, left him here to take the rap, and clean up this sorry mess.

James swore that if he ever laid eyes on Aro again, he would kill him with his own bare hands.

"He's paid," Edward muttered. It wasn't a question.

James looked at Edward and nodded. "He said eight hours ago."

To James' surprise, Edward started to laugh.

"It's not fucking funny!" James yelled at him.

"Oh, but it is," Edward replied. "The conman has been conned."

"What the fuck do we do now?" James ran his fingers through his hair. He felt panicked. She could identify them. Even if they made a run for it, if she got out she could give descriptions and they were screwed.

"Like I said, we could go home." Emmett shrugged.

"You're a fucking idiot!" James shouted. "We can't go home. We can never go home again! As long as she is alive, we will be America's most wanted!"

"So what are you saying?" Edward didn't like the direction this was going in.

"I say we fucking kill her!"

"From petty theft, to kidnap, to murder? You really know how to fucking role."

"So what do you suggest?" James grabbed Edward's shirt and shook him.

"I suggest you calm down!" Edward shouted back.

"What's going on?"

They turned to see Jasper leaning on the door frame. His eye was bruised and swollen, and he held his side as if in pain.

Edward walked to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He handed it to Jasper.

"No thanks." Jasper shook his head.

"It's for your eye, dickhead." Edward shoved it at him.

"Oh." Jasper took it and pressed it to his swollen lid. "What's happened? Everyone's shouting."

"Your fucking girlfriend is dead!" James said.

Jasper dropped the can, his face drained.

"She's not dead, Jaz," Edward reassured him.

"Not yet, anyway," James stated. "But she will be in five minutes!"

"Don't you fucking touch her!" It was Jasper's turn to scream.

"I'll do what I fucking like!" James yelled back.

"What do you suggest we do, Jasper?" Edward asked him. "She can ID us."

"Are you serious?" Jasper stared at Edward. "You want to be a party to murder?" He backed away from Edward in total shock. "You're not my brother. You agree to this, Edward, and you are not my brother."

"I warned you not to care," Edward told him.

"I care about life, so what?"

"You care about her life."

"Of course I do. How does that make _me_ the bad guy?"

"What if Jasper asks her to say she didn't see any faces? She might do it as a favour to him," Emmett said. His voice startled them all as they had forgotten he was even there; always so silent in the background.

Jasper nodded in agreement but James shook his head. "I've already been screwed over by someone I trust today, I won't make that mistake again, and certainly not with someone I _don't_ trust!"

Walking into the lounge, James went to his bag on the floor and withdrew a gun. Jasper guessed it was the one he had found in the bag in the basement the first day they had brought her here.

James checked the chamber for bullets and headed towards the basement door.

"No!" Jasper made to lunge at him, but Edward held him back. "Let me fucking go!" Jasper elbowed Edward in the face and connected with his nose. Edward swore and let go of Jasper, but only for a second, before he tackled him to the floor.

"Let me go!" Jasper continued to scream, so Edward placed his hand over his mouth.

"Shut up," he hissed in Jasper's ear, "and listen."

Jasper stopped struggling.

"We have to go."

"Like Emmett said, maybe I could convince her."

"She has been brutalised, Jaz, she'll want us all to pay for that!"

Jasper considered Edward's words for just a second, and then shaking his head, he pushed him off.

"If you choose to walk out that door, and away from this," Jasper told him, "then go. But I won't leave her, and I won't let him, or anyone else, kill her."

Edward nodded, and walked to the door, stopping only to glance at Emmett, expecting his brother to follow.

Emmett glanced back at Edward. "You're on your own," he told him, and walked over to Jasper.

Jasper didn't wait to acknowledge either of his brothers. He turned and fled to the basement.

In reality, only seconds had passed since James had walked to the door and descended down. It was merely seconds as he fought with Edward, but those seconds had still passed and brought James ever closer to Isabella.

As he ran down the stairs, he saw James standing over her, cocking the gun and aiming at her head.

Isabella woke to find Jasper was gone. She guessed he had been taken as James had locked the door, so it meant Jasper couldn't just walk free.

She groaned as she tried to sit up. Her face was a mess. Her nose was blocked with clotted blood, her lips were sore, and she tasted blood there too; probably from her nose.

Her hands hurt so much, she felt like her fingers had been slammed in a door.

She ached all over.

She gave up trying to move and simply lay back down.

For the first time since this ordeal had begun, Isabella just wanted to die. She'd had enough.

She could hear shouting coming from upstairs and eventually, what sounded like Jasper's voice. Once again, she couldn't make out the actual words, just the noise.

She heard the basement door unlock, and to her horror, James appeared holding something. The silhouette made it look like a gun, but Isabella was too dazed to fathom this possibility.

He looked so mad. She lifted her face and peered up at him.

He didn't speak. He simply cocked the gun and pointed it at her head.

She didn't care.

"Bella!" Jasper came running down the stairs, catching James off guard. He made the mistake of lowering the gun to look over his shoulder.

Jasper ran at him, knocking him to the ground, and the gun flew from James' hand across the floor.

At hearing Jasper call her name, Isabella suddenly came alive and reached for the gun. Lifting it, she tried to aim at James, but he was already upon her, his fist impacting with her cheek.

The blood in her mouth sprayed out, hitting the wall behind her.

The gun fell to the floor again.

Before James could get it, Jasper kicked him in the side of the head. This time the blood hitting the wall was all James'.

Isabella expected him to stay down after such a blow, but he raised himself up on shaky arms and looked around for the gun.

Jasper kicked him again, but James side swiped with his leg, taking Jasper's own legs out from under him. He landed with a thud on the floor.

Isabella raced on all fours towards the gun, and reached it at the same time as James. He was above her, his weight pressing down on her, making it even harder to breathe.

Her fingers found the trigger first, and lifting it, she tried to turn it on him. She wanted to see him die. But James used his fist again, hitting her eye and almost knocking her out. She could feel the lid swelling immediately, and through blurred vision in just one eye, she saw an opportunity and took it.

Kicking up, she threw all her energy into her shin and hit his groin, this time making a decent impact.

James stopped breathing, and clutching his swollen testicles, he fell to his knees. As he did so, he knocked the bag still lying under the table. As the bag shifted, Isabella noticed the rest of the contents which she had spilled days prior.

Amongst those contents was a hammer.

Pushing herself onto her knees, she picked up the hammer. Using the table to steady her shaking legs, she stood and turned to face him.

Despite his injury, he had managed to grab the gun, and was now pointing it at her chest.

"Bella!" Jasper cried out again as he lunged at James.

At hearing Jasper cry out behind him, James swung around and squeezed.

The gun exploded; the smoke and smell of sulphur filled the air, and Jasper hit the floor.

Isabella watched in horror as he clawed at his stomach, blood seeping out quickly onto his hands.

Screaming in fury she raised the hammer, and standing over James, she brought it down on his head.

But she didn't stop with one blow. She kept swinging, feeling through the handle the dull thud as steel connected with human tissue.

Through one blinkered eye, she saw him crumple to the floor, but she kept battering him, throwing the hammer in any direction.

She could feel his blood as it spattered across her face, over her clothes, the walls, the floor.

Bella lifted the bloody hammer above her head and then she paused, ready to strike one more time.

Her fingers felt sticky, the bloody dripping down the handle made it difficult to grip, but sheer determination, the need and the will to survive, far outweighed the humanity left inside her. She had finally reclaimed her will to live.

With each swing of the hammer – with each soft impact into his skull, his face, and his body – she had felt everything which made her human dissipate. She should have felt elated. She should have felt free. She should have felt something, anything. She had expected the crowning emotion to be anger, for a feeling had to exist in order to drive her on, to make her fight, but all Bella felt was empty.

She looked down at her assailant, at her victim. In the dim light filtering from the open basement door above them, she could see he was laying still, his features swollen and pulverised. She couldn't tell if air passed through his lips. They were fat and bleeding. Bella found herself staring at his face, or what was left of it. It didn't look real, not human. Fake. Like a dummy in a horror movie.

He looked dead. She didn't need to strike again.

Dropping the hammer, Bella wiped her hands across her face. She could feel the bruises left behind from his punches, the scratches sweeping down her right cheek from his nails, and her nose crunched when she touched it. She was pretty sure it was broken.

She was wet with tears and spittle, but her filthy hands didn't help to clear them away. Her lips were parted and her breathing fast and shallow. Sweeping her tongue out, she tasted the coppery fluid her fingers had just smeared there. She glanced down at her hands, her dress, her bare feet, the walls, the floor, back to his mushy features; everywhere was stained with blood.

The room was painted with it; some of it Bella's, most of it his.

With a sob, she fell to her knees. She looked down at her hands, expecting to see them shake, but they remained steady, as if she were calm.

She wanted to scream but her throat was dry. She wanted to cry but her tears were gone. She wanted to shake but adrenaline was still coursing through her body, giving her strength when she should've been feeble.

A groan from across the room startled Bella from her stupor. Scrambling over the cold, concrete floor, she gripped Jasper's shoulders and lifted him till his head lay in her lap.

"Jasper," she whispered, smoothing her hand over his chest. She found the bullet wound and applied pressure.

"Bella," Jasper murmured. His breathing had become gritty, like he needed to cough and clear his throat. "Where's...?"

"He's over there," Bella nodded her head towards the bloody heap, "I think he's dead."

"Good." Jasper coughed and blood trickled from his lips. Bella ignored it, and bending down, she kissed his face.

"Just lay still, ok? The ambulance is coming. Help will be here soon." She stroked his hair and continued to pepper his cheeks and nose with kisses. "Just lay still, ok?" Jasper didn't respond. "Help will be here soon," she heard herself say.

Beneath her hand she felt his chest rise and fall, and with each exhale warmth flooded her palm where she pressed it against his injury. He was bleeding quite profusely and Bella didn't know how to stop it.

A figure appeared above her, and Bella gasped, looking up to see the big, burly guy. He squatted down at their side. "I've called an ambulance, and your dad," he said.

Bella didn't know what to say.

She watched as he removed his sweater and pressed it down on Jasper's wound.

"He's bleeding too much," she whispered.

He nodded, and Bella realised he was crying.

"You're his brother, right?" He nodded again, but didn't speak.

Bella placed her hand over his and pretended to help him press down on the wound, but the truth was she needed the comfort as much as she offered it, with that pointless gesture.

It wasn't long before they heard the distant sound of sirens approaching the house, and then the sound of shouting and running as many footsteps burst into the house.

"Isabella!" She heard her father call her name.

"Daddy!" She called back, and heard him head towards to the basement.

Within seconds she felt his arms embrace her, holding her against him, rocking her back and forth as he cried into her filthy hair. She clung to his shirt and felt him shudder as he sobbed.

Charlie lifted her into his arms, and standing, he carried her towards the stairs.

"Wait," she muttered, "what about Jasper?"

"He can rot in Hell!" Charlie said.

"But he saved me," she told him.

Charlie stopped walking and looked back at the boy bleeding on the floor. The man holding a sweater to his stomach was watching them.

"Help!" Charlie called out. "We need help down here."

As the police and paramedics made their way down, Charlie carried his daughter up and out of the basement. At first she shied away from the blinding sunlight and buried her face in his chest, but as he walked outside into the fresh air, Isabella turned her broken face towards the sun.

"Daddy," she murmured, "please, take me home."


	16. Epilogue

Epilogue

Bella's physical recovery took weeks. Her injuries were mostly superficial, but the bruises were stubborn.

Her mental recuperation took longer.

She told the police that she only ever saw and heard James. She had no idea who the others were, all she knew was that Jasper had attempted to rescue her, but had been shot by James.

Edward, Emmett, and Jasper had been questioned, and released. There was insubstantial evidence to tie them to the crime. Charlie had his doubts about their innocence, but he was happy to have his daughter home and alive, so he let it lie. Besides, his real enemy was Aro. Charlie vowed he would hunt him down, and then make him pay.

He hated that he hadn't reached her in time. He hated that she had been reduced to killing a man, before she had found her freedom. They had actually been on their way to the house, when the call came over the dispatch radio for an ambulance. He knew the address by heart, and it was his heart which dropped into his stomach when they repeated that same address to the paramedics. Sam had looked at him, but Charlie hadn't dared return his gaze. He was holding onto the edge of sanity with just his fingertips, and any sympathetic nods or kind words would have tipped Charlie over.

Then his cell had rang, and a voice they did not recognised had told him Isabella was alive but needed her father.

The image of Isabella covered in that bastard's blood, would be forever engraved on his memory.

Bella had visited the hospital to see Jasper only once. She had asked for her father to wait outside, but he had watched through the glass window as she bent down and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Jasper seemed happy to see her, and Charlie knew his involvement went far deeper than Bella had told them. There was an intimacy between them, and it was obvious they cared deeply for one another. Charlie was no fool; he knew that kind of emotion didn't just sprout from a five minute meeting in an attempted rescue.

But she never went back to the hospital, nor did she mention his name to Charlie again.

He had tried to ask her why she never went back to see him again, but she had used some excuse about mistaking her gratitude for real feelings, and she needed distance from him to be sure.

He kept a close eye on the brothers, and heard the family had left town some weeks after Jasper's hospital discharge.

Charlie was not ashamed to admit he felt relief knowing they were no longer close by.

He knew what had happened to her was bound to change her. She had survived a terrible experience, but the most surprising thing was when she asked everyone to call her 'Bella' instead of her full name.

Charlie guessed it was an effort to throw off the painful memories of what had happened to 'Isabella' and embrace the new life she now had as 'Bella'.

He didn't care what her reasons were; he loved her and made sure to tell her every day.

He watched her now as she sat in the garden, writing in her journal. He didn't think she had ever kept one before, but again he assumed it was all part of her healing.

He wondered what she wrote about, and if he would ever get to hear the full sordid details about her nightmare. He wasn't sure he wanted to, but he would listen if she ever told him.

Walking over to her, he handed her a glass of lemonade and then sat on the chair opposite.

"What are you writing about?" he asked.

Bella stopped writing and placed the pen in the spine of the journal, then closed the book. "I'm writing a story," she told him.

"About what?" He hoped she didn't say romance.

"About my kidnapping."

Charlie looked at her, the shock evident on his face. "Why would you want to do that?"

Bella shrugged. "It helps."

Charlie nodded, he had guessed as much.

"It's not for publication," she told him. "I wouldn't want my poor dad to suffer any more shame at having his home broken into when he is head of a very successful security comapny."

It was only a joke, but it still stung Charlie.

Bella stood and placed the book on the chair. "I need a snack," she said. "Would you like one?"

Charlie shook his head and watched her walk inside. Then, carefully, he lifted the journal and opened it. He wasn't planning on reading the whole thing, but his curiosity got the better of him.

He found just three words on the first page, and upon reading them, he decided he had already intruded too much.

Closing the book, he placed it back on her chair and went inside to tell his daughter, once more, how much he loved her.

"Horror and Hope," he whispered, recalling those three little words from the first page.

It was simple, but to the point.

It said it all.

* * *

**Thank you Readingmama/vampmama for hosting another awesome gift exchange. FAGE just wouldn't work without you. I'd also like to thank you for your amazing support and enthusiasm for my writing. You inspire me.**

**Thank you again, to AcrossTheSkyInStars aka Tanya Zedor for being the little sister I never had, and the best beta ever! She has also made me the most beautiful banner for 'The Stockholm Syndrome' which you can view if you join my page on facebook. Find me under 'Claire Bloom Guyan writes'**

**The song which was on continuous repeat for this story is by Angie Mattson and is called 'Cold Soul'. It's not really relevant to the story, but it is lovely and that song, along with layingawake, acted as my muse. Thank you, I love you so much x**

**Thanks to all of you who read and reviewed. I owe you so much x**


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